


Sanpaku

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-30
Updated: 2003-09-30
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: When he's told he's Sanpaku,Mulder starts experiencing strange things. Is he cursed?





	Sanpaku

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

Sanpaku

## Sanpaku

### by Humbuggie

Sanpaku   
By Humbuggie  
2003   
Feedback [www.sv-tales.com](http://www.sv-tales.com/)

Edited by Truthwebothknow1 

Spoilers for X-Files: None. 

"Sanpaku: this well-known Japanese term describes a condition in which the white of the eye can be seen between the pupil and the lower lid as the subject gazes directly forward. This, we quickly learn, connotes a graves state of physical and spiritual imbalance. The Sanpaku is out of touch with himself, his body and the natural forces of the universe." 

"Sanpaku: Eyes of death" 

Type of story: MT, Angst, MSR (sans sex), loads of Skinner friendship, and some profiler influences. 

In my universe there never was a season eight or nine. The story takes place in 2003, with M&S doing business as usual. 

Note: In previous stories I have introduced new recurrent characters like Terence Davies, Mulder's former boss at the VCU, and his co-workers Tom Fielding and Daniel Verlaine. If you want to know more about these characters, read the profiling stories at my website [www.sv-tales.com](http://www.sv-tales.com)/. This story is an unofficial follow-up of the story "Color Blind" and has a few references to this story, in particular to Scully's shooting. It helps if you have read this story too. 

Story: Mulder starts to experience a strange series of unfortunate luck, having him believe that his time has come, after a woman told him he is "sanpaku". But is he really suffering from a string of bad luck, or is there something else behind his ordeal? 

Sanpaku 

Chapter One 

Part One 

"You," the beautiful woman said as she glanced directly in Mulder's direction, "are Sanpaku." 

The agent looked up, startled. The young female had his attention instantly, as he realized he'd never heard that word before. It intrigued him to learn something new. The word became embedded inside his photographic memory; and left him hungry for an explanation.  
He leaned forward, as did his partner, who sat tiredly next to him, to finish the report she had been typing for the past few days. Both agents were extremely exhausted, after yet another marathon meeting to set things straight between the Japanese and US government. 

"He's what?" Scully asked confused, looking up from behind her laptop. 

"Sanpaku. Unfortunately, that is not a positive sign." The Japanese twenty-something translator grabbed her modern raincoat, pulling it over her slender shoulders as a token that the conversation was finally finished. 

From the beginning, until the very end, she'd had total control over the meetings and Mulder felt that she was again, pulling their strings. She ran the meetings, the conversations and gave just enough explanation to keep them coming back for more. The agents didn't like it but had gotten used to it by now. It wasn't the first time they'd dealt with the Japanese government and their officials. Mulder knew some of them could be a real pain in the ass ; but they had good sushi and excellent table manners, although he felt too tall and unrefined whenever he sat down with them. 

"Wait a second," he stopped her. "What does that mean? Tell me." Miss Jansu smiled, stopped and came over to him as he stood up, almost touching his eye with her index finger. She was so close to him, that he could see the spots in her dark eyes. She was a beauty, Mulder thought, not moving backwards or turning his face away from her. 

"It's in your eyes," she said gently. "They are turned upwards so that one can see white on three sides. For us, this means that you are out of balance with nature and the universe. You are eating unhealthy food, Agent Mulder. In fact, I would strongly advice a change of lifestyle seeing as you are obviously, completely imbalanced. You look like you are ready to drop on the spot right now. No wonder, when you carry the weight of the world around." 

Mariko Jansu, the Japanese interpreter who worked for the Embassy, smiled apologetically as she leaned backwards from the bemused Mulder. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to sound so heavy. I just wanted to inform you, that you should keep better track of your health. It looks like the two of you are having difficulty doing so at this moment. I can understand, seeing the circumstances were grave and serious. You don't look well, especially you, Agent Mulder, who hasn't slept well the past few nights" 

"Thank you," Scully smiled wearily. "I've been telling my partner that for years." The oriental woman bowed slightly. 

"I am happy that you would agree with me; that is an honour. Goodbye, Agents." She moved to the door, like a feather barely touching the ground. Her moves were gracious and beautiful and extraordinary. Mulder watched his partner stare at her in awe. 

Scully, despite the fact that she too was a petite, felt jealousy surge through her; but she admired the Japanese culture, their habits, even their gorgeous women. Too bad, she thought, that the ones working for the government weren't exactly pleasant to work with. They were all top notches at what they did, but had no respect for the other party at all. 

"I would also watch my back for the next few days," Miss Jansu suddenly mentioned by the door, not allowing the agents to reply. "You might need a bit of backup. Goodbye." 

"Wait!" Mulder was up from his chair and towards the door, but she'd already gone. By the time he'd stuck his head out in the corridor, she had vanished into one of the many rooms the Embassy held, off that corridor. The sturdy guard did not seem too pleased when the agent attempted to rush down the corridors on his own, and stopped him with a single move, shaking his head fiercely. 

Besides the fact he was much taller and broader than the agent, he also had a `don't mess with me' look in his eyes. Mulder knew better than to even try. 

Mulder turned and saw Scully shrug. 

"Weirdo woman," she stated unprofessionally, jealousy raging through her voice. Mulder suddenly roared with laughter, realizing his partner still felt as if there was something beautiful going on between Miss Jansu, and himself. For the past few days the translator had stated openly that she wouldn't say no to a possible come-on attempt by Mulder; she had spent her days ogling the FBI-agent. 

Mulder wouldn't have dreamed of it though. Like Scully, he too felt too tall and inelegant whenever he was in Mariko Jansu's presence, and besides, he always thought of himself as belonging to Scully. Apart from that, he had no intention of starting a relationship with a woman who took everything he said, too seriously. 

"What did she mean by that last remark, do you think?" Mulder asked, as they wrapped up their paperwork and gathered their belongings. Scully turned off her laptop and began going swiftly through her jotted notes to see if she'd missed anything. They were the last ones to leave the room; they'd spent so many hours in. Mulder had grown tired of counting the cracks in the ceiling. 

"I think she meant that you're about to get a coronary with all that junk-food you've been eating. Mind you, she does have a point. You look like hell, Mulder." 

"Have you checked yourself in the mirror lately?" he grunted. She smiled. 

"At least I am not Sanpaku, whatever the hell that means." 

"What did you expect with what we've been doing the last few days?" Mulder groaned, not pleased with Scully's remark. He never liked it when someone commented on his health, realizing all too well he had a habit of getting stuck too deep into cases, too many times, but she was right this time; he did feel like he'd been hit by a car and should be at home resting. The past few days had been killing them both. The Japanese negotiators had not wanted to stop for anything, let alone a coffee break; they had seemed like machines who could go on and on for hours. 

"I'm telling you Scully, that this is the last time we're dealing with international diplomats," Mulder groaned. "I don't even understand why Skinner and Davis agreed that the two of us, should handle this one alone. As far as I'm concerned, they can stuff their cases next time, or get someone else to do it." 

Scully grinned wryly. 

"Oh, I don't know why they would do this to us," she mused. "Perhaps they wanted to have a certain agent's comment rectified to prevent an international incedent. You were the one accusing Mr. Asari of being a yeti, remember?" 

"I meant it as a joke. Besides, I didn't know he spoke English. He never mentioned it before, and he always used the lovely Miss Jansu as translator," Mulder sulked, trying to get his point through after spending the last four days in diplomatic-hell. "Besides, you said it yourself; he was worse than a yeti. He even looked like one. He deserved what I called him. He could be glad I wasn't comparing him to a sumo wrestler." 

"Yeah, but I didn't almost cause an international riot over it, did I?" Scully sighed, grasping her coat from the uncomfortable plastic chair. "No wonder our own government weren't too eager to get involved." 

"They dumped us, you mean. Threw us before the lions." 

"We did well, Mulder, and that's what counts. Without Miss Jansu, they'd have a death warrant out for you right now." 

"They don't do that anymore, Scully." 

"No?" she smiled. "Are you certain about that?" Mulder grinned. "You know what we need, Mulder?" Scully sighed, "Time off; a good holiday. I just want to go somewhere quiet and peaceful where no one would bother us about yetis, or werewolves or whatever might be out there. I need a break, and a good, long one. Even a weekend would suffice right now." 

"Are you asking me to go with you?" Her partner leered, wondering if Scully was up for the challenge of spending quality time with him, in her scarce time off. She smiled back, showing her partner how tired she was when her eyes fluttered a bit, showing big rings around her eyes. 

"Who knows," she mused. "You might get lucky some day." 

Despite his extreme fatigue, Mulder felt very pleased that Scully would actually hint at the suggestion of vacationing together. When she flashed him her brightest smile, he felt as though the world would fall back right into place again. It felt absolutely gorgeous. Not even the prettiest Miss Jansu could take this moment away from him, he thought wryly, nor even the sexiest woman in the world, could stop him from feeling this way about his partner. 

"What about next week then?" Mulder offered, smiling broadly. "We could go away then. Take one hotel room for a change. Go to a resort some place nice; get massaged and spoiled rotten. How does that sound?" 

"I'll think about it. If you eat your vegetables." He stuck out his tongue. "I always eat my vegetables." 

"You mean the little nuggets of corn they throw on a plate when you go out to eat a burger?" 

"That a boy," Scully smiled, causing Mulder to frown even more. 

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Can't help it that I don't like my veggies." 

"Weirdo." 

Mulder couldn't help but laugh, as he walked after her into the brightly lit corridor that buzzed with activity day and night. Most Japanese employees worked longer and harder than any other culture in the world, and were used to spending day and night at the office; the fact it was after eleven didn't stop anyone from being there. Scully often wondered where they slept, and if it was true that they had small cubicles with tiny beds stocked in the building, not that she cared. Both agents were deadbeat after four day-marathons of cleaning up the mess that one Japanese Embassy-employee had made in D.C. 

It had all started so innocently with the death of one woman that seemed to be a single case, until more women died, and more. Finally, it all lead up to one man working in the Japanese Embassy who was officially recognized three times, by three different witnesses. The problem was, that this particular employee enjoyed diplomatic immunity, and showed the classic symptoms of a crazed out serial killer. 

Because of Mulder's profiling involvement, Terence Davis of the VCU and Walter Skinner, their direct boss, had found it best that both agents - with the aid of government officials, sort out the mess. Mulder had been called in to profile the case before it became clear that Heizo Shiba, was responsible for the murders. His profile had in the end, lead to the man. With the three witnesses collaborating the profile, they had a solid case, but the Japanese government was unwilling to pass Shiba over to its U.S. counterparts, just like that; hence the beginning of a marathon round of negotiations in which several parties were involved. 

Mr. Asari was the high official dedicated to find a good solution to handle the case. He was also the man Mulder had insulted. 

Eicho Etsuko, Asari's right hand, passed the agents in the corridor as they were on their way out. He had left the large meeting room a few moments before Miss Jansu, not wishing them farewell. 

It was no secret that Etsuko disliked the agents. As far as he was concerned, the killer, Heizo Shiba, should not have been handed over to the US officials for trial and sentencing. He was a man used to rough justice, from a country that was used to handling his or her own affairs. In his eyes, Shiba's only trial should have taken place in Tokyo. 

However, the agreement had been set between Asari and the US government. Nothing more could be done about it. Etsuko was very upset with Mulder's remark about Asari. It was an unfortunate incident that had happened late at night after exhaustive discussions over Shiba's fate, but one that would never be forgotten by anyone involved. Mulder knew all too well the Japanese culture was not to be messed with. 

Asari had been upset too, but had been willing to forget about it in order to finish the negotiations. He'd insisted that Mulder should stay put instead of being discharged from his temporary negotiative function, but his eyes harboured the cold, white anger that a person only bore when they couldn't forget. 

Mulder was nearly past Etsuko when the Japanese assistant stopped him, grasping one arm firmly. The man watched him intently, silently enjoying Mulder's reaction to being grabbed like that. His eyes narrowed. 

"Shinde Morau." 

Both agents were startled by the man's aggressive behaviour. Even without being able to understand what he'd said , it wasn't so difficult to figure out that he didn't have good intentions for Mulder. 

"Whatever you say, buddy, and right back at ya," Mulder snarled quietly, tired of dealing with discussions that went on in a language he didn't understand. 

"Let's go, Scully." 

To Etsuko's annoyance, the agents passed him without saying another word. He turned and waited until they were out of sight, before repeating whispered in English, 

"You will die." 

Then he smiling broadly, he walked into Asari's office. 

Part two 

The agents walked outside and breathed in the scent of the fresh, rainy evening air. It was too late for them to grab dinner and Scully felt too tired to bother with it, anyway. Her stomach was empty, but she was beyond caring about it. All she wanted to do was go home, but even that didn't seem to go easily. Since it was raining cats and dogs outside, she'd have to run across the street to fetch the car and ruin her newly styled hair. She had made a special effort today, feeling uneasy in the Embassy. 

Mulder was angry at his own refusal to listen to his partner's advice about taking umbrellas with them, despite the fact there was a large one sitting in the back of his trunk. Now everything they held in their hands, from bags to mobile phones, and guns would become soaking wet. 

"Here," he said, shoving his bag quickly into Scully's arms. "I'll run for it. I'll get the car." 

"Mulder, you'll be soaked!" Scully protested. 

"It's just across the street, don't worry. Besides, you've got warm cosy towels at home, don't you? I'm sure you don't mind if I use them." 

"Har har." Scully groaned. 

Before she could utter another objection, Mulder buttoned up his winter overcoat, pulled up the collar and shoved his head down as much as he could, before crossing the street, still becoming soaking wet. His coat wasn't waterproof enough for a downpour. 

The agent ran across the street right before a car swirled around the corner and almost clipped him. Mulder barely missed it and could actually feel it graze the side of his leg. Fortunately, the driver hadn't been going fast. 

"Hey!", the man inside the Ford shouted at him, raising his middle finger. Mulder waved back at him, as he passed. 

"Sorry!", He made it to the parking lot without any further accidents. He had visions of warm, hot showers, or a bubble bath. Anything like that sounded nice right now. 

The agent rushed to the car standing on the second level, using the staircase that led up. The Mondeo stood parked near the outer wall, where the lights were about to give up for good. Mulder unlocked the car with the remote, and was almost there, when something sharp stung him in the left side of his lower back. 

"What -" Mulder's hand automatically went to the source of the pain and touched it, confusedly trying to figure out where the sudden ache had come from, only to realize that he was bleeding profusely. He didn't understand. His hand came back covered in blood. He stared at it in shock and then at the man behind him who held up a knife. The blade was covered in blood; his blood. The attacker had stabbed Mulder right through his clothes, cutting clean into him like butter. 

"What did you do that for -?" Mulder groaned, suddenly starting to shake violently, as he realized his body had stopped reacting to any brain stimuli. "I'm an FB..." 

The agent felt his body slide forward, banging into the car door and then onto the ground, leaving traces of blood all over the vehicle. The man grabbed him roughly, pulling him backwards so that he fell awkwardly onto the concrete on his back. Mulder hit his head hard while all the time; his left hand automatically kept up pressure on the knife wound. Some little voice inside of him shouted that he might die of the blood loss if he didn't. It was all he had to go on. Keep putting pressure. Focus. Stay alert. Alive. Don't give up. 

If only he could reach for his gun, or he had the strength to shout out to someone. If only there was someone, somewhere to help him. If only he could... If only he could stay alert. 

Mulder closed his eyes, no longer aware of the fact that another attacker had appeared, as soon as the first was searching inside their victim's clothing for car and house keys, wallet, watch and anything else of value. The second one startled when he noticed the gun underneath the agent's clothing, hidden inside its holster. 

"What the hell..?" he blurted out, startling the first man. 

"`God damned, he's an FBI-agent!", the first attacker hissed as he reached for the Mulder's ID. "We didn't know .." 

"You killed him!" the second one hollered, panicking when he realized what this could mean if they ever got caught. 

"No, he's not dead." 

"Kill him then! He's seen our faces. We can't afford to let him live." 

"That wasn't the deal, and he hasn't even seen you. I'll take the chance. Let's go!" 

"Forget it, man. He's not going to live." The second attacker pulled out Mulder's gun with a gloved hand, shoving it directly into the stricken agent's face. Mulder was nearly out of it, but not completely. He heard their conversation and realized his life was even more at stake. He had to do something. Somehow he had to convince them to keep him alive. He hadn't seen them. He hadn't done anything; he just wanted to live. 

He realized all to well that he was vulnerable in this position. The agent struggled with his consciousness and made the decision to open his eyes. He had to talk to them out of this. He groaned and blinked once, only to stare into the barrel of his own gun. The second man's cold blue eyes stared directly into his. He knew there was no stopping him.   
Was this it? He thought. Was this what Sanpaku meant? That he was going to die right here, right now? 

"Hey!" A third voice came from behind them and sounded like a gift from heaven to Mulder's ears, a manly sound; hard, strong and very angry. He was one of the good guys for sure. Mulder had faith in that. 

The two didn't hesitate or wait around to argue with the third man, they crawled into Mulder's FBI-rental car and took off, taking the agent's wallet but leaving his ID on top of him. The second man, who'd been pushed away from Mulder's nearly unconscious body by the first attacker, dropped his weapon next to him. Mulder could have almost touched his gun, had he not been shaking from shock. The third man rushed over to the agent, knelt by his side and stared at him in shocked disbelief. He was a parking attendant. 

"Buddy, are you okay?" he asked, voice nervous and agitated. 

"Get. Help." Mulder groaned through his pain. 

The man reached for into pocket, grabbing his cell phone to dial 911. Mulder just stared at him, before he became a part of the blurry universe he solely entered. 

Part three 

Scully's impatience only grew worse, when Mulder hadn't shown up after ten minutes of standing in front of the Embassy's front gate. The guards were looking at her suspiciously, wondering why she was standing there with two bags of paper, one laptop and long hair that was slowly becoming messier, the more the rain splattered her. Her coat was getting soaked too. She felt like a wet kitten thrown onto the streets. 

Finally she gave up and held one of the bags over her head as she too, made her way across the street. She couldn't run faster because of the weight she carried, and felt angrier by the second. 

"I'm going to kill him," she muttered, convinced some beautiful blonde had cornered him for a chat.... Or perhaps he'd bumped into Miss Jansu, she thought grudgingly. 

As she rushed through the main parking lot gate, she tried to remember where they'd parked the car. Second floor. Her eyes scanned the darkness for an elevator. She found it, walked towards it, shaking the raindrops off her coat, shivering with cold. 

In a split second, her anger turned to fear when an ambulance, followed by a police car, entered the parking lot and nearly drove her off her feet before she could enter the stairwell. Her instincts immediately warned her that they were there for Mulder. There was complete silence on the lower levels and the vehicles were headed straight up. 

Her sixth sense that had usually helped her protect Mulder, had never betrayed her before. Her heart sank deeply as she rushed towards the second floor, nearly tripping over her own feet, to find the ambulance arriving at the same time on the second level, speeding towards the end of the lot where their car was parked. She knew. 

Their car was gone now....and in its place, lay a body crumpled on the concrete, surrounded in an instant by paramedics and police. That body could only be Mulder's. She knew it. She knew it so well; Oh, how she wished she were wrong. She'd have given anything to be able to rush forward and find she was mistaken. The paralysing sensation that stopped her for a moment faded, as her feet carried her towards her partner. 

Of course she wasn't wrong. She recognized Mulder's extremely pale, blood-drained face, his silence, his blood on the pavement, his beautiful hands lying deadly quiet on the concrete and his shivering. That shivering told her he was alive and that he was hurt badly. He was unresponsive when they called out his name. 

How could they know his name? She wondered, as she rushed forward, dropping the bags on the concrete; then she saw his badge in a police officer's hands, and the gun lying next to his left side. Where were the rest of his belongings? The car, his wallet and even his watch were gone. 

A elderly police officer turned just in time to grasp her, before she could force herself through the paramedics and nearer by her partner's side. 

"Hang on, who are you?" he asked sharply. 

"I'm an FBI-agent, Dana Scully. That's my partner lying on the ground." 

"Can you ID yourself?" 

Impatiently, she waved her badge. The officer's expression changed, finally delivering the sort of respect one law enforcement agent gives another in times of distress. He also gave her the worried look one gave to a next of kin; he seemed to know she was much more than just his partner, that she was his friend, his confident and his life. 

"They're working on him," the officer explained after identifying himself. Scully didn't remember his name afterwards. 

"`What happened to him?" she asked with wavering voice. 

"He was stabbed." 

"Where? How? I'm a medical doctor, let me see him." 

The police officer wasn't in the mood to argue with the fierce redhead and stepped aside, allowing her to approach her partner. He felt that she had every right to be involved. Scully nodded in gratitude as he made way for her to reach her partner's side. She asked him to contact her boss, giving him Skinner's cell phone number as if she'd memorized it and was used to giving it out. 

The Cop had the sudden impression she'd been in this sort of situation before. He saw a strange hurt and defeat in her eyes that told him she'd seen much more of the world than he had. He felt instantly sorry for her as he turned away to call her boss, as requested. 

"How is he?" Scully asked, instantly aware of the fact her partner was not in good shape. There was a pool of blood beneath him and on his clothes, left hand and the concrete. He had lost quite a lot. His eyes were closed and he'd stopped shivering, becoming non-responsive to stimuli. A thick dressing was clamped over the deep wound, where the knife had struck, doing some serious damage. 

"Huge loss of blood. Shock. I'm afraid his kidney was punctured. We have to move him quickly," the paramedic in charge, explained. "We might lose him if we don't hurry." 

"'I'm going with him," Scully's voice brooked no argument and gave the paramedic a fierce glare when he opened his mouth to argue with her. He nodded and asked her to let them do their jobs. She moved backwards, even though her eyes stayed focused on Mulder, not letting him out of her sight. They worked thoroughly and efficiently, she noted to her great relief. He would be in good hands. 

"Agent Scully", the police officer approached her, a man standing nervously behind him. 

"This is Mr. Noel, the parking lot attendant. He saw it happen." Scully nodded, distraught. 

"Could you tell me what happened, please?" 

"I was downstairs in my booth watching the monitors, when I saw your colleague going up to his car. A few seconds later a man came out of the shadows and attacked him. I hadn't even seen him come in. I would have called for backup if I had." 

"Could you see if they struggled?" 

"Not that I know of. I think they surprised your guy. He was attacked from behind. The moment your partner went down, I rushed upstairs. I have a small gun, you see, and I was ready to use it, but when they saw me, they ran off. They were going to kill him. They had his gun shoved into his face. I thought they were going to blow his brains out before I could do anything. Fortunately they didn't, I surprised them." 

"You saved my partner's life," Scully told him with gratitude, "Thank you. Without you're timely intervention he would have died." 

"I wish there was something more I could have done. These days nothing's safe anymore. What's a man to do? I can't afford to give up this job either." 

"Nothing," Scully gave him a sad smile. "Just keep safe and make sure that you don't have to use your gun." 

"I try not to." The attendant turned to follow the officer that would take his statement. He was upset by the whole situation and felt as if he was useless, but the talk with the FBI agent's partner had made him feel a bit better. He'd done something right this time at least. 

Scully watched as her partner's unconscious form was transported into the ambulance; She was determined to go with him. 

"I have your boss on the phone," the Cop yelled at her. "I'll tell him to come to Georgetown Hospital." 

"Okay, thanks." She slipped inside the waiting ambulance and watched the paramedic make her partner as comfortable as possible. With an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and a wad of thick dressing pressed on the wound, Mulder was as stable as he could be. An IV was already inserted in his arms. Monitors showed his vitals. Scully calculated a ten-minute drive into hospital. She could only pray it Mulder could hang on until then. 

She leaned backwards and closed her fatigued eyes. How was this possible? Only fifteen minutes ago they had been joking about going on vacation together, and now this. She didn't understand it. 

None of this. 

Part four 

By the time they arrived at West Hospital, Skinner was there. He'd brought Terry Davis with him. Both Assistant-Director's stared at Mulder's unconscious form and realized how serious the situation was, as he was moved quickly into a green ER-cubicle. A large white lamp shone over the agent's face and body, revealing his pale exterior. His clothes were cut off quickly and the trauma team took over. 

Scully had given the paramedic a brief overview of Mulder's medical history, including his blood type and allergies. He wouldn't like that, she thought, as they inserted a catheter and put him on a respirator. She didn't like it either; it meant they were in for trouble.  
All Scully could do now, was watch the proceedings from outside the ER-room where her partner was being examined and cared for. 

She was happy that both AD's were there. Terence Davis especially, seemed very upset about the unfolding events. Scully didn't blame him; in previous cases, where Mulder had been hurt, Davis had felt a certain responsibility towards the man, even though everything that had just happened, was beyond anything anyone could have foreseen. 

Davis and Mulder had a special bond that went beyond work. They were friends and more than that. They had developed a respect that Mulder shared with only a few others like Scully and Skinner. Davis had been Mulder's mentor and became a close friend. He had the habit of asking for Mulder's involvement when things became rough, and they were on the lookout for the worst type of serial killers imaginable. It was no secret that Mulder loved to work with Davis and regularly returned to the VCU to work on his profiling skills. 

"Sir?" Scully spoke tiredly, addressing herself to Davis who had assigned them to this case in the first place. Skinner went to look for a doctor who could tell them more. Davis was like a beacon of light. She trusted him as much as she did Skinner, having gotten used to him after all the cases and worries they had been through together. They had known each other for five years now, and the respect Mulder had built up for the man had transferred onto her. If it weren't for the two of them, she'd have been forced to be here alone, with her worries and cares. Now she had strong shoulders to lean upon. 

"I was late at the office when I heard," Davis spoke, startled by the agent's sudden weariness as she turned towards them. "How is he doing?" Davis felt immense sympathy for the petite female agent, who rubbed her eyes. She looked so tired. He felt guilty for having to put the case on them, but neither had disagreed that it was the best way to go about things. They had known how much was at stake during the proceedings and negotiations. 

"How did you find out?" Scully asked tiredly. "I thought Skinner must have told you." 

"An FBI-agent getting stabbed across the street from the Japanese Embassy?" Davis smiled wryly. "That could only have been Mulder." She returned the smile. 

"I know." 

"How are you, Scully?" Skinner enquired, as he returned empty-handedly and placed his hand on her shoulder. She tried to keep up her bravado as she spoke to her two bosses, but felt it slipping instantly. This time, she had no other choice but to allow them to see how weary she was. She was so tired. So very, very tired. This was the last thing they needed after the week from hell. Tears sprung in her eyes as she shook her head, turning away from them, not wanting them to see how much she hurt. 

"Scully?" Skinner came after her and forced her to look at him. He was strong, broad-built and very concerned. She could have easily thrown herself into his arms and allowed him to comfort her. 

Suddenly, she almost laughed at the irony of the situation; Every time her partner was in trouble, Skinner was there to keep them from falling apart. She knew she wouldn't have been in tears right now, had it not been for the horrible exhaustion she felt, weighing heavily on her too small shoulders. She felt guilty for putting the responsibility and strength upon her boss, but knew she had to do that this time. She was too beat to keep herself up. 

"Sir, I ..." 

She stared at her hands and noticed there was blood on them. Drops of blood that made her shiver. Mulder's blood. That was enough to send her into tears. Not so long ago, Mulder had been hurting because she'd been shot. He had told her how he'd felt; powerless and guilty, now she felt the same way. 

Suddenly thick tears rolled over her cheeks, making her a mess. She leaned forward, into Skinner's arms, holding onto him as he did his best to comfort her. He was the only one besides Mulder who could do that. 

" It's okay", he whispered soothingly in her ear, trying to get her shivering under control. "He'll be fine. He'll pull through, he always does." 

Over her shoulder, Skinner shared a worried glance with Davis. Neither was used to Scully falling apart. She was always Mulder's strength, his conscious and his brick wall to lean upon whenever he got himself into trouble. She hardly ever showed her fears.   
If I get my hands on whoever did this, he's going to pay, Skinner thought angrily, as he felt Scully clutch him. He will not know what happened to him. 

It took almost five minutes and two cups of strong coffee to calm Scully down, apart from a gory-looking sandwich that seemed too odd to eat, but tasted like a feast of salmon and champagne to her. She hadn't wanted to eat at first, but when she did, felt her body come alive again. The stamina that was her building block returned. 

She knew that her partner was in trouble. She knew that he might die; but she also knew that the chances of survival were just as great. She had to think positive instead of falling apart, she told herself angrily. She'd quickly gone into the ladies' room to wash her face and hands, and add a bit of make-up to hide the tears. She had to be strong when Mulder woke up, she couldn't show him that she'd nearly lost it. 

After that, the three of them waited for another fifteen minutes, until the ER-doors finally opened again. As the doctor walked out, she moved towards him, trying to see Mulder. He was still inside and medical staff was moving around him. 

"Your partner will be alright," the doctor spoke reassuringly and firmly, making her believe him instantly. "We managed to stop the bleeding to the severed artery. Our surgical staff will take over from here. They will repair the damage to his kidney and the artery, but they are pretty sure that he will be all right since the knife grazed mostly soft tissue. He did lose a lot of blood and will be weak for some while. He looks very exhausted, but I'm pretty sure that a couple of days of rest will do him the world of good." 

"Thank you, doctor." Scully nodded quietly, embarrassed at her sudden outburst of tears. She just couldn't stop from crying. Skinner placed his arm around her shoulder in a gentle gesture. She smiled bravely as she looked at him, thanking him silently for being there. Terry caught her glance and nodded supportively. "Thank you," she repeated, this time directing her words towards them both. "Thank you for being here." 

"Any time," Davis said. "Any time." 

Scully waited until Mulder was being moved from the ER to the OR-quarters. He still had a respirator down his throat and she knew that would stay there until he recovered from surgery. He was still pale, but extra blood was already being transfused to replace the amount he'd lost. She knew that after surgery he would recuperate quickly. She grasped his hand as they moved him to the elevators. 

"Mulder," She hoped quietly, that he would unexpectedly open his eyes and smile at her. He didn't. She let go reluctantly as the elevator doors opened, and they wheeled him inside. 

She allowed Skinner to take her into a more comfortable waiting room nearby. It was nearly one a.m. by now, all sense of sleep had passed her by. She felt jetlagged. 

"I have to go now," Davis said. "I've got an early meeting tomorrow. I'll check back in the afternoon." 

"Yeah, that's fine." Scully allowed Mulder's former boss to give her a firm hug. She was surprised by his emotional goodbye. He was a man of character who ran a department of thirty people. The fact that he was here now, was proof of how much Mulder meant to him. "Thank you, Terry," she smiled. 

Davis said goodbye to Skinner and left the two of them alone. "He feels guilty," Skinner said. 

"I know." 

"It's not his fault. It's no one's fault. This could have happened to anyone." 

"...But it happened to Mulder," Scully sighed exhaustedly. "Even when he's not out there working on weird cases, he gets hurt. But I swear that I'll track down the bastards that did this." 

"Get in line," Skinner grunted angrily, balling his hands. Scully looked aside, and realized how caring Skinner could be, whenever he lost his faade of anger and bravery. He was probably their best friend and she never told him that enough. 

"He'll be okay soon enough," she spoke quietly. "He'll forget about this eventually." 

"Let's hope so." 

Skinner leaned his head backwards on the bench, as a token that he was not about to leave her alone. She nearly smiled and rested her head too, closing her eyes. She had to catch a nap or she wouldn't stay on her feet. It was hard to do that with so many people walking down the corridors, despite the nightly hour. 

Just before she dozed off, fresh shock rushed through her. Sanpaku, she remembered. Miss Jansu had told Mulder to watch out. Was this what she was talking about? And if so, how did she know? How could she have ever known that he would be the victim of robbery? 

How could anyone have known? 

Part five 

Mulder woke up gradually to a world of confusion with people hovering over and taking care of him. He was all too familiar with the scenery; hospitals all smelled the same and looked alike. He didn't care for them. He didn't care for the tube down his throat either and the pain that took over his body. He couldn't tell if Scully was in the room. If she were, he couldn't remember seeing her. He was alone in that world of confusion and. beeping noises of the monitors 

What he did recall afterwards was the extreme cold; they'd removed his clothes and worked on the knife wound and all the damage underneath it. He could feel their hands probing him. They were talking about him and thought he was out of it, he could tell they had feared for his life. They allowed a stranger's blood to rush through his veins to replace the amount he had lost. Even in his sub consciousness, Mulder was aware of the fact that a bleeding artery was threatening his life. By the time he was brought to the OR, he was oblivious to everything. 

Hours later, the agent woke up in recovery with doctors and nurses nearby. The tube was still down his throat. He hated it and fought against it, but gentle hands were swift to clam him. He was reassured that all was fine and that he would be okay. Too tired to attempt anything further, he no longer struggled. 

He fell asleep again, only to wake up in a semi-private room where machines convinced him that he was still alive. The tube was gone. Scully was there, looking at him intensely before giving him a broad smile, as he managed to look at her for longer than a few moments. 

"You're awake." 

"I think so," he groaned. "Or is this hell?" 

"Not likely." 

He coughed as he tried get rid of the aching feeling in his throat, that revealed he must have been on a respirator for quite some time. He wasn't feeling too much pain though. He felt quite comfortable, in fact. Doped up. They were giving him the good stuff. 

"What did you do?" she quipped, as she fed him ice chips. "Piss off more diplomats?" 

Mulder shook his head as he sucked on the ice, trying to recall what had happened. All he remembered was the sharp sting in his side, and the gun being shoved in his face. Before, between and after, were a big blur. 

Scully instantly noticed that her partner wasn't exactly in a talkative mood, and covered him up with blankets. He felt cold. She stroked his forehead and kissed him gently as he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift off. 

"Rest," she whispered as Skinner entered the room and watched them. "It will get better." Mulder had no difficulty obeying Scully. It worried her that he wasn't eager to ask any questions. In fact, it frightened her more than anything. The one thing that separated Mulder from most people was his spirit. If some day he would lose that, he would no longer be Mulder. "Get well," she whispered as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He was burning with fever. 

Scully took her boss outside and closed the door gently. 

"He's not well," she said worriedly. 

"What do you mean? The doctor said he would be fine, and he's awake and talking." 

"That's not what I mean, sir. I mean mentally. He barely spoke two words to me. He's confused and upset." 

"You couldn't have expected him to recite books, could you? After all he's been through, it should be normal for him right now, not wanting to talk about anything." 

"No, it's something else, sir. I know that he's not feeling well. He's reliving the ordeal." 

"Isn't that normal? He was stabbed in the back, for goodness sake." 

"I know sir, but those risks are in our everyday lives," Scully tried to explain. "This time, in this case, he was attacked beyond his will or reason. He couldn't have seen it coming. I think that he will start to show standard victim behaviour soon. He'll feel unsafe and wonder why this has happened to him. For the first time in his life he has become an unwilling victim of an ordeal that happens to many people. Only, it nearly cost him his life." 

"Then it's up to us to make sure he'll feel otherwise, isn't it?' Skinner grunted. "Like any other victim, he needs reassurance and protection to get past these feelings."   
"I hope that will be enough, sir." 

Skinner felt a shiver run down his spine, as he watched Scully's worry change into a strange despair he hadn't seen before. Mulder had nearly died because of a stupid robbery. If it had to end, did it have to be this way?, So meaningless and downright stupid? 

If a law-enforcement agent ever thought about death, he usually associated it with a heroic one; going down while saving lives was their motto. It was that what drove sailors in the past, to give up their seats on boats to passengers when there wasn't enough room for everyone. It was part of a sense of obligation, which made the sacrifice at hand seem worthwhile. 

Scully walked back inside and sat by her partner's side. Skinner had convinced her to catch some sleep in an empty room on the same floor, while he stayed with Mulder over the past few hours, before dawn broke. Scully had reluctantly agreed; she had wanted to be with Mulder when he woke up. After Skinner's vow that he would fetch her as soon as something changed, she had taken up the offer. 

Terence Davis from his side, was taking care of the Task force that looked for the robbers; he had called to inform them on that, as soon as he was able to walk out of the early meeting with the board of directors. Not so long ago, he had helped Mulder catch the perp who'd tried to kill Scully. Strangely enough, this seemed like a return of favours. Only this time they were looking for ordinary muggers. 

Davis had sent for the parking attendant to try and get a mug shot of the two assailants, but came up with nothing but a description of clothing. A team was scanning all the security tapes that might show anything out of the ordinary. No one had seen the attackers enter the lot; they might have been waiting in the shadows for several hours to pick out the right victim. 

For now, there nothing else anyone could do. The chance of ever finding the assailants was slim though. By now, the FBI rental car could be in Detroit, disassembled or shipped out to Mexico, and the attackers would have faded into the shadows, drugging themselves with the blood money that had nearly cost Mulder's life. Scully hoped they would be stupid enough to use Mulder's credit cards, but didn't count on it. 

Scully watched her restless partner sleeping. He stirred and muttered while he was out of it. He was not at ease and had difficulty struggling with memories, even in his sleep.   
After a while, a nurse came in and gave him a sedative that relaxed him. She stretched her legs and back, trying to make the best of the long night and day. Skinner came back with a few magazines, some coffee and sandwiches that she quietly absorbed. Their boss stayed with her in silence, watching her just as intently as he did Mulder. He feared for both their health, wondering what would happen if one of them would ever die. All hell would break loose. 

"Shouldn't you be somewhere, Sir?" He had shaken his head. 

"I'm here on my time off." He had grabbed one of the magazines and started reading, knowing she wasn't in the mood to talk. 

Finally, as night time settled in again, Mulder stirred for the second time that day and opened his eyes. She could tell instantly he was feeling better; more relaxed but still in physical pain. He had slept for so long that it worried he, now and then. She was used to insomniac-Mulder. 

Skinner remained where he was as Scully approached her partner. She needed this time alone with him so he stayed in the shadows, knowing Mulder would not be aware of his presence, and then he got up and left the room quietly. 

"Can I get you anything?" she asked worriedly, as her partner opened his eyes and recognized her, rewarding her with a smile. 

"No, I'm fine. Hungry though." 

"Good." She caressed his hair and toyed with his fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin. He was doing better, she could tell. "`I'll get you something." 

Behind her, Mulder noticed Leno on was on television with the sound muted; George Clooney was on. The hospital was very quiet and Scully looked extremely tired.   
It almost seemed as if they were alone in the world. He wasn't aware of the fact that Skinner was in the same room. 

Mulder saw a bouquet of flowers standing on the table. He wondered whom they came from. The Lone Gunmen, he imagined. They would be the only ones sending Chrysanthemums into a hospital room, as a weird practical joke. 

"I'm alive," he said quietly, after Scully rang the bell for medical help and smiled that most beautiful smile, she only reserved for times of distress and baseball. He had seen it before and remembered waking up earlier that day. It had to be night time now since he could see the darkness through the open curtains. 

"Yes, you are. You were lucky too." 

"What happened?" 

"We were hoping you could tell us?" Scully grinned eagerly, happy that he was willing to talk about it this time and ask questions. "They found you in the parking lot, stabbed in the back. You were mugged; the car was taken, along with your keys, cell and wallet." 

"Two punks," Mulder mused quietly. "I never even saw it coming. I was too eager to get into the car. I didn't pay attention." "You were stabbed from behind. They were waiting for someone to enter the lot obviously, unfortunately that was you. Your left kidney was hit and an artery was severed, but the damage has been repaired. You lost a lot of blood but you've had several transfusions since last night. You were lucky, Mulder." 

"Yeah, I guess I was." 

Mulder closed his eyes to relive the moment. Why hadn't he heard them? Why had he not seen them coming? Why had they taken him of all people? Was he at the wrong place at the wrong time, or had he let his guard slip like he'd done when Scully was shot? Had he been whammied again? No, that couldn't be. He'd been the victim of a mugging, nothing more, nothing less. 

They had wanted his bloody rental car and were not in the mood to talk about it. Hit first and then talk had been their motto, then he remembered them debating over killing him. They had wanted to destroy him because he was an FBI-agent, he almost laughed at the irony. Take a number, boys. 

Mulder's dreams were filled with reliving that moment when he felt life slip away from him; there was nothing much he could do about it. The moment the blood started flowing out of him, he'd been tempted to go to the other side and get it over with. He'd known then that he could die, and when the gun was aiming at him, he'd almost welcomed the bullet that would release his pain. It would have made the journey to the other side briefer. 

He had never been the victim of a mugging before. Usually he was the stronger one, the saviour; the FBI-agent who came to help people. He'd never experienced being an innocent victim before. For the first time, he had no control over the events. The events had taken him completely, nearly winning. 

A nurse entered, disturbing his gloomy thoughts. She put a bowl of jello down in front of him. 

"Will you be able to eat it yourself, or do you want help, Mr. Mulder?" 

"I'll be fine." He took the bowl from her hands, as she pulled up the bedclothes a bit, pushing the pillows comfortably around his back. He groaned as his stitches objected painfully. 

"If you need anything, let me know," she said and left. Mulder sat quietly with the bowl of sickly looking gunk in his hands and stared at it. The jello wobbled. He shoved the bowl onto the table, looking out of the window instead. 

"Mulder?" Scully leaned over him, obviously very worried about the agent's state of mind. She knew him so well, he thought wryly. He would never convince her he was doing better. "Are you okay?" 

"No," he admitted. "I was just thinking about those guys." 

"Could you identify them?"  
" I don't think so. They wore pull down caps." 

"Their voices?" 

"Like anyone else's. There was nothing out of the ordinary about them. They were punks trying to score. They took the car, they could have asked for it, but chose to stab me first. Nothing much I can do about that, is there?" 

"There is plenty you can do. You can help us find them." 

"I can't," he groaned, "You'll never find them." 

"We can try." 

"Don't bother, Scully. It's over. I'd like to get some rest now, if you don't mind." 

"Okay then," she hesitated. "'I'll stay here." 

Mulder knew he didn't have the energy to protest against Scully's intention to spend the night; she'd already been here for the past twenty-four hours anyway. She wouldn't go now, besides he wanted her to be here, to chase away the sudden fear that this could happen again; that somehow, death had chosen him as its next victim. 

"Nice flowers," he whispered hoarsely, closing his eyes. 

"Yeah, they are." She held his hand until he fell asleep and looked at the decorative display of blooms. She hadn't even noticed them earlier. Skinner must have sent them. 

Part six 

In the middle of the night, they stood in Mulder's apartment, looking at his belongings, not caring one bit for their possible value. They were not here to rob: they came to destroy his apartment, or at least those parts of it they wanted to destroy. 

"Get started," the first man ordered, noticing how the second one hesitated for a while. He was not so keen on doing the destructive work, especially after he'd already been involved in a murder attempt. Hadn't they gone far enough? 

The two of them worked their way swiftly through the apartment, leaving no room untouched. It took less than an hour and was as damaging as anything they had ever done before. As they left, there was nothing left of the decoration that wasn't ruined, Fox Mulder's apartment was left an unattractive mess; in fact, it needed a good makeover. 

Part seven 

The one thing that anyone could say about Mulder was that he recovered quickly. The doctor's noticed especially the remarkable speed with which he was able to recuperate. 

Thank God for small mercies, Scully thought, as she returned from a restless night at home to find him alert and awake in the early morning. He was sitting up in bed, nibbling on a piece of toast. A cup of tea was standing ready next to another bowl of cereal. 

"I hate hospital food," he complained around a mouth filled with crumbs. She laughed. 

"I know, and you hate their tea too." 

"No, I don't. I used to drink it by the bucketful back in Oxford, but this cereal stuff is just disgusting. I wouldn't even feed it to my fish." 

"Your fish would die." 

"Probably. So, when can I get out of here?" 

"Not for a day or two, I'm afraid," Scully said as she lingered on the side of her partner's bed. "You've had major emergency surgery, remember?" 

"Oh yeah, I forgot. I'm still feeling nothing though. It itches now and then, and hurts when I move too much." 

"You're still drugged, by the time the good stuffs worn off, you'll regret even moving." 

"`So I am doing well?" Mulder asked, tilting his head a bit as he refused to eat another spoon of the awful cereal-like crap they wanted to force down him. 

"Yes, you are. There's nothing beyond repair." 

"Good," his eyes lit up. "I can't wait to get out of here." Scully laughed. 

"That's the Mulder I want to see." He looked at her strangely. 

"Are you saying I wasn't myself the other night?" 

"Mulder, you were sad and worried last night. You were hurting, I could tell, and I was afraid you would still feel depressed this morning. I'm just glad to see you're up to your old tricks again." 

"I'm okay," he nodded self-assuredly. "I just felt horrible last night, you know." 

" Sure, You remember then what happened to you, and the way you felt about it?" 

"Every single detail," he sighed. "I was the victim of a mugging, Scully; nothing more, nothing less. It could've happened to anyone, and it happened to me. Serves me right for parking the car in the back of the lot and in the shadows. It's just crappy that I couldn't do anything about it. I felt powerless." 

Scully looked at her hands, knowing she had something else to say that would not sound pleasant. Something she'd seen earlier that morning and had worried her beyond anything else. 

"What?" he asked, seeing the uncomfortable expression on his partner's face? "What is it?" 

"The guys who stole your car, broke into your apartment last night. They wrecked the place. To be honest, I didn't even think they would dare do this. We had a police officer guarding your building but he didn't see anything." 

"What?" 

"They threw paint on all the walls, destroyed the carpet and smeared the windows. Strangely enough, they didn't touch any of the hardware. Your TV is still intact as well as the VCR, DVD-player and your computer: it all remained untouched. They just ruined everything else." 

"I see." Mulder leaned back in the pillows and sighed. "Ah well. We should have expected that. As long as they didn't kill my fish, I don't care." 

"The fish are okay. Slightly green and blue now, but okay." He smiled; laughing, until he almost cried as he nearly burst his stitches, realizing that the good stuff was wearing off. 

Mulder was slowly feeling better, noticeable by anyone entering the room. Davis came to talk to him, as did Skinner. Tom Fielding, working in the Dallas Field Office now, popped over to say `Hi,' as he happened to be in DC for a case. So did a few other colleagues from the VCU. Mulder felt strangely pleased that they would all come to see him; he realized that he did have friends within the FBI, and that did him the world of good. Even Daniel Verlaine, who helped him after Scully's shooting, had popped in to see him. 

Mulder did his best to sound animated and in good spitits but it was getting harder as he slowly built up a splitting headache. 

"I am lurved," Mulder grinned broadly, yet weakly after the sixth visitor of the day had left. 

"Lurved and tired." Scully grabbed her coat, nearly dropping the contents of her bag onto the floor. "I'm going to leave you to get some rest. How's that? I'll tell the nurse to have you left alone for a while. You really do look as you could use some time on your own." 

Mulder felt too fatigued to answer and just smiled. 

"Thanks, darling," he mumbled as his eyes drooped. She couldn't help but smile as she closed the door behind her. He was almost out of it, by the time she was on her way out into the corridor. 

Mulder heard the door open and close. He opened his eyes and saw a nurse grab the flowers on the table near the window, pouring extra water into the vase using the small bathroom sink. She placed the flowers on the table again, before she came over to his bed; fiddled with the bed sheets and looked at him intently, he noticed through partially closed eyes. 

"Are you alright, Mr. Mulder?" she asked with a pleasant voice. 

"Yeah." 

"Can I get you anything else?" 

"No. It's okay." 

"Goodnight then. Take care. Don't let the bedbugs bite." 

"Night.'" Mulder opened and closed his eyes for a second, only to notice that Scully's cell phone lay on the table next to the flower vase. `She'll get that back in the morning', he thought. 

Mulder was already asleep by the time the nurse had left the room and closed the door. His body relaxed for the first time. He was feeling strangely happy; comforted by his visitors and the hospital's security net that protected him from other muggers and assailants. 

He hadn't wanted to admit it to Scully, but the fear was still there. He could have laughed at the fact that his apartment was ruined, but in the end, strangers had intruded on his home and had invaded his privacy. Although he was used to that by now, he still couldn't really get accept this last intrusion, it was a scary thought. 

Mulder's hand itched. He dabbed at it instinctively, feeling a slightly sharp sting into his skin; he must have touched something in his sleep. Then another stinging sensation followed, then another, and another. He could do nothing against this, as his mind told him to get some sleep, until his exhausted body finally followed orders. 

Bedbugs went through his mind as he slumbered into darkness, feeling something crawl over his lower arm. 

All of a sudden, his body seemed to slide into oblivion; his mind couldn't fight the urge to descend into darkness. He was doing okay, he thought, Yeah, he was doing much better now. He just wanted to get some sleep and forget there was a world out there, he belonged to; an everyday world where everyone went about their business. He was part of it, and yet he wasn't. He was in his own world now, where nothing was as it seemed and he was alone with his demons. 

He couldn't feel his mind drift off, or feel his body; but he did sense the loss of control, the way he could no longer grasp onto reality. His bodily functions deteriorated within a few moments, and his mind no longer fought for consciousness, He was a victim of his own mind, trapped inside oblivion. 

There was no one to stop him from being sucked into the abyss; he could just slither into it and go with the flow and in the abyss, the demons waited. It was that easy. 

Part 8 

"Damn it," Scully groaned, already halfway between the hospital and her home. She had wanted to call Skinner, to tell him that she would take care of Mulder's apartment in the morning, only to realize she'd left her cell at her partner's bedside. She felt naked without the phone; vulnerable and out of reach from the outside world. She glared at the clock in the car's dashboard, nearly nine. She sighed deeply as she made an unexpected U-turn, which scared the life out of the driver behind her, and hurried back to hospital. 

Part 9 

Somehow Mulder sensed something was terribly wrong with him. He felt almost paralysed as he lay in bed, trying to get a grip on the troubled feelings within his mind. He was trapped inside his own body, struggling against the darkness that overwhelmed him; he tried to fight harder to reach the surface. He didn't succeed. 

Suddenly his consciousness returned and he was gasping for air. His hand moved across the bed, towards the buzzer; the only call for help he could muster. He finally was able to open his eyes and stare at the ceiling; it seemed to fall on top of him. He watched the shadows as they moved across its surface. A single light burned inside the room, allowing more ghosts to enter as he stared at them, wondering what they meant. They seemed to be everywhere and formed figures in the dark, soon they surrounded him, his lassitude allowing them to enter his mind and take over. They formed butterflies and spiders and ants; monsters, creatures and scary humans from his past, whom he'd long thought were dead. 

He thought he saw a shadow that looked like Scully between them; he stretched out his arm and his fingers became longer, in their attempts to reach her. He was in awe as he stared at his hands. 

The shadows became coloured figures. He smiled and laughed; feeling safe as they engulfed him, cherished him and loved him. Even the monsters were not so scary anymore. 

"Wonderful!" he cried out, but he couldn't know that he was only screaming in his mind. Not a single word left him, as his eyes took in something only he could see, until he was totally trapped inside his own hallucinations, the second they became ghastly creatures of the night. 

He was tired, but fighting back, as he reached to sit up, then something crawled over him. He could feel it. 

"Ahh...," His hand instinctively shoved aside whatever was on his arm, onto the floor. He was starring at a spider, then more spiders, there were others lying flattened on top of his bed; their remains as gruesome as that of any dead creature. 

The shadows started to threaten him even more. He could tell they were becoming more aggressive and angry with him. He swallowed away the dryness in his throat, becoming aware of the fact he'd probably been bitten by those spiders. He wanted to shout but couldn't get a single syllable out of his mouth. He felt nausea creep up from within and his head swam; a splitting headache cut through his skull, piercing the skin behind his eyelids. 

He tried to focus on the wall before him, in order to focus, but he needed to call someone. Someone, somewhere had to help him. His fingers reached for the button as the spiders crawled on the floor, passing his feet and toes. He pulled them up, horrified at the sight of them. They weren't too large but looked like nasty little critters. If they had injected their poison into him, anything could happen; but poisonous spiders? Here? He shivered with cold as he pushed the button, needing to get out of the room, away from them; towards freedom and safety. 

His hand ached now as he stared at the dark red spots. He counted four. 

He slipped barefoot onto the lino, staring at the figures making patterns on the floor. He felt like an ice skater that had suddenly lost his balance. 

"Scully." 

He slipped forward and felt his body fall, having no control over it anymore. He fell on his stomach and the stitches in his side tore with the strain of impact, his eyes catching sight of the two living spiders. They crawled into a corner of the room, seeking darkness and security, more frightened of him than he was of them. 

`Scully, help.' 

He wanted to cry out her name but couldn't, alone in the dark. She'd said she would not allow anyone to disturb him anymore. At this rate, by the time someone had found him, he might be dead. He could feel his life under threat as much now, as he had when the knife slashed had through him. 

In his mind's eye, he saw Mariko Jansu's face before him. 

`You are Sanpaku,' she said over and over again. `Your eyes are the eyes of death. You are in danger. You are going to die. You did not listen to me.' 

"You're right," he groaned as he crawled towards the door, pushing it open with a final burst of strength. "I didn't. Listen." 

His body nearly collapsed straight into Scully's arms, as she cried out his name. She lowered him to the floor, trying to get him to respond. 

Part 10 

"Three spots on his other hand, they look like bites but could be anything. Get blood work done stat. Quickly, turn him on his side, he's going to vomit." Mulder felt his body being pulled and pushed onto his side, as everything he had inside of him struggled to find a way out. His body retched and he could do absolutely nothing about it, just wanting to slip back into the dark abyss that had claimed him before. 

"I think he's awake. Mr. Mulder, can you hear me?" 

"Mulder?" 

"Mulder, listen to us." He groaned. 

"Mr. Mulder, open your eyes. Try to concentrate. Stay alert. Do you know what happened to you? Can you tell us?" 

He had difficulty gathering his thoughts. He was completely out of it, sensing only that splitting headache that was cutting open his skull, and the dryness in his throat, accompanied with the disgusting taste of bile. He felt ghastly. The moment he opened his eyes, he saw two versions of everyone in the room. They all had strange faces, as if he was in a mirror palace and they were posing in their funniest outfits; he could barely stay awake, let alone talk to them. 

Twin Scully's appeared before him; their mouths were strangely distraught and their noses seemed much longer. He laughed. 

"You're looking funny."   
The two images merged into one and she grasped his right hand. He could feel irritating patches on his left hand as he was pushed down on his back to stare into blinding, bright lights. 

He was back in the ER. 

"Mulder, it's me," she said, grasping his attention. 

"I know," he moaned as the pain returned in full force. He felt crappy. 

"What happened? Can you remember a bite, or a sting? Anything?" He had to think, trying to remember the crawling on his hand and arm. 

"Spiders." 

"Spiders?" she asked worriedly. "Where?" 

"Room." He swallowed away the dryness, sensing fevers rushing through him. His body would not obey his mind and he needed to get out of here. As Scully moved out of his sight, he could feel a sting in his arm and instantly struggled against the tight grip that held him. The spiders were back! 

"No," he groaned, fighting off the strong hands holding him down. "Go away!" The doubles of the people working on him all became a blur, morphing into giant creepy-looking spiders that crawled over him with their hairy legs. He had to run. 

"Let me go!", he screamed, forcing them away from him. If he only wriggled hard enough, they would let go, but they didn't. He stared at them. He had seen them before: big, giant bugs out to get him; he'd become a zombie soon if he didn't stop them. 

"Hold him, he's out of control!" a male voice said, as Scully came back into view. She grasped his hand again and leaned over him so that he could see her. Her other hand touched his face, her voice sounded soothing. 

"Mulder, you're safe now," she told him firmly. "They're trying to help you." 

"No, they're going to cut me up! Scully, you've gotta help me." 

"I am helping you. I won't let go. Trust them, Mulder. It's okay." 

"No, they'll kill me." 

"They won't." 

"They will!" 

"They won't, I swear it. Look at me, Mulder. Trust me. I'm here. I won't let go of you. Just listen." 

Scully felt despair as she stared at her very sick partner. He struggled so hard with the hallucinations that had him in their grip, that it became hard to see him like that. He was sweaty, sick and very much in another world. She knew he hardly saw her through the haze of drugs that they were giving him, hoping they would kick in soon and take care of his hysteria. 

Spiders, he'd said, although she'd seen nothing when he first startled her, coming from his room; he'd practically thrown himself out of the door and into her arms. She had called for help and moved him onto his back, releasing his airways but he wasn't responding to her. He had vicious red spots on his hand and lower arm. He'd definitely been bitten by something, she could tell, but had no idea what it was. 

Finally, they managed to calm the agent down a bit. He no longer fought them off and was now focused on Scully. He needed to see her in order to stay calm, they realized and Scully was not willing to move anyhow. 

Mulder closed his eyes as the first antibiotics flowed into his body, accompanied by a heavy sedation that would keep him calm, instantly loosing consciousness as the drug hit his veins. 

"Have you found anything in that room?" Scully asked the night nurse who had called for help. She wasn't an expert on spiders or their poison. Whatever this thing was, it did its job thoroughly and quickly. 

"No." 

"I need to go take a look," Scully sighed," If there were spiders in that room, they might still be in there." 

"Go ahead, he'll be unconscious for some time," Dr. Morris, the attending doctor said. "We'll keep him calm. As he's hallucinating badly, this is probably the best for him, although we need to quickly find out what bit him, Dr. Scully. I can't get an antidote started without a proper diagnosis. He could be going into anaphylactic shock. We have him on oxygen. I know nothing of spider bites. We'll need outside help, at this stage I don't know if the antibiotics will suffice. His reaction to the bites is aggressive and severe. He was already weakened by the knife attack and surgery. We can't afford to wait too long." 

"Get that blood work done quickly, I'll be right back," Scully pleaded as she reluctantly left the ER to return to Mulder's room. She didn't want to leave her partner but she had to find what had bitten him, otherwise it could already be too late. 

As she rushed towards her partner's room, she bumped into Skinner just leaving the elevator, who at the same time, was heading for Mulder's room. She had him called him as soon as Mulder was transferred to the ER. 

"Thank you for coming," she was out of breath. "It's bad, Sir." 

"What the hell happened? He was fine earlier." 

"He's been bitten by something. We need to find out what it is." "Bitten?" Skinner's eyebrows lifted. He stared at Scully, not comprehending what she said at first until reality bit him in the ass. No pun intended. 

"`Snakes?" the A.D. heard himself say, remembering the last time his agent had been bitten by them.   
"Spiders."   
"Spiders?" Skinner asked no more questions as he rushed after her. In Mulder's room, a nurse was busy removing the bed sheets. Scully looked at her inquisitively; no one changed bed sheets in the middle of the night unless she already believed Mulder was dead and the room was vacant. 

"Stop what you're doing," Scully ordered. The nurse stared at her strangely. 

"Why?" 

"There might be poisonous spiders in this room. Close the door.'" The nurse reluctantly responded. As they closed the door, Scully got on hands and knees to check out the floor, while Skinner checked the closets. 

"Be careful. They're most likely vicious biters." 

"Okay." 

Scully carefully checked every corner of the room, as the nurse watched her from the door. She'd thrown the bed sheets onto the floor when she noticed something crawling on them. 

"Wait," the nurse called out, staring at the remains of what used to be a spider. Scully carefully lifted the sheet to take a better look. She felt relief surge through her as she realized that it wasn't a Black Widow, At least that was something, but it was still another poisonous species that had to be identified. 

"I've got another one!" Skinner yelled as he waved at Scully, while focusing on the small spider sitting in the corner of the room, stuck between the closet and the wall. The creature had sought shelter in the dark. "Careful. Careful." 

Scully approached her boss, staring at the small arachnid in the corner of the room; there was another one behind it. They seemed so tiny and so senseless, but they were destroyers. Killers. 

"Get me a jar or something," Skinner ordered. "And something to scoop them inside with. We can't afford to touch them." 

The nurse rushed outside and returned less than a minute later with a jar and a spatula. It took three attempts to catch them, and then both spiders were finally in the jar and sealed away. There were two different species, by what they could tell from size, shape and colour. 

"Gotcha," Skinner yelled in triumph as he showed Scully the jar. 

"We need an arachnologist. Do you have any idea what these things are?" she asked. 

"Shouldn't be too hard to find out." 

"Mulder doesn't have time," Scully told him angrily, as they rushed through the corridors back to the ER. "How the hell did those things get in that room?" 

"Let's find that out later. Right now we need to help Mulder. I'll get in touch with the Bureau. We've got a spider expert working right here in D.C., he'll find out for us." 

As they returned to the ER, Scully held her breath as she learned that her partner was not doing so well. He was still out of it, and was suffering even in his unconsciousness, from acute nightmares and hallucinations. He was strapped down to the bed, to Scully's astonishment. The fevers were at a high peak and he'd deteriorated in less than ten minutes. 

"He's panicking," the doctor said. "We can't keep him sedated for long, his heart rate's going through the roof and he has a raging fever. We're doing everything we can to get his temperature down. What have you found?" 

Scully stared at her partner's body being treated with ice packs. She hated seeing him like this. Shivers ran down her spine as she came to grasp the seriousness of his physical state. 

"We've got the spiders." Scully showed him the jar. 

"Any idea what they are?" 

She sighed, frustratedly. 

"None." 

"I know what these are," an ER-nurse said, looking at the creatures in Scully's jar. "At least this one; it looks like a hobo spider, and the other one, I don't know what that one is, but it seems to be a member of the Clubionidae-family." The others stared at her. 

"You know. Sac-spiders." 

"And?" 

The nurse looked at her. 

"He's dying!" Scully heard herself shout. "Start talking, woman!" The others in the room thought she had gone crazy, but Scully didn't give a damn. Her partner was on the verge of death and someone needed to move. 

"Well, they're quite poisonous. I examined them a while ago for a medical study. I worked in Australia for a while where there are plenty of species to work with, so I know a bit about them." 

Scully grasped her by the arm. 

"You've just become my newest best friend. Start talking." 

Part 11 

Night became day again, as Scully slumbered tiredly in a chair near another window, in the ICU. She'd watched her partner struggle with fever and hallucinations; they had also reinserted a respirator to help him breath and relax. He'd been fighting off effects of strong sedatives, struggling against the restraints they'd used to protect him from hurting himself. It had been a long time since she'd seen him like this; she never wanted to experience it ever again. 

He wouldn't open his eyes, or respond to her, neither could he talk to anyone, despite the fact that the respirator had been removed and he was breathing on his own. She didn't even know if he was awake or alert enough to do so. She felt horrified that the fevers were bad enough to destroy his mind and sanity. The doctor voice in her whispered that people could get brain damage from such high fevers. 

It wasn't until the right antibiotics settled into his system that he was able to respond. When he finally opened his eyes and looked at her, she realized he was still Sanpaku, but she would help him fight it, protecting him for as long as she lived. 

Part 12 

"What spiders?" Mulder asked hoarsely. 

"Sac-spiders, but it's strange that you were bitten by them. It's even stranger that they were in your hospital room; they usually live outdoors, but can be pretty dangerous, especially when your system is already compromised after surgery." Scully sat at Mulder's bedside while she talked. 

"I've done a bit of research on spiders, with the help of a nurse who knows about those things. This particular breed can be nasty critters. The symptoms you've had; the high fevers and nausea are probably from one species that bit you, whereas the other symptoms like the hallucinations come from the second type." 

"You're not going to tell me I'm turning into Spider-man, are you?" Mulder groaned, staring at his bandaged lower arm and hand; the bites underneath the layers of bandages and salve itched like mad. 

"Not likely," Scully smiled, feeding her partner ice chips to take away the dryness in his mouth and throat. He still looked ghastly pale and sick, but at least he was talking again and not delirious. 

Mulder had never felt this weak before, literally every bit of strength had been sucked out of him, leaving him a human wreck. The right antibiotics, advised to them by an expert arachnologist who mainly focused on the hobo spider that had bitten Mulder, counteracted the poison that rushed throughout his system. 

"One spider bite from a Hobo spider is bad enough when the subject responds aggressively," the arachnologist had explained, "But your guy has been bitten four times, by two different spiders. No wonder he's hallucinating, it's odd though; it's rare to have two different species biting a human at the same time, and I've never seen that type of Sac-spider before. It's definitely not local; I'll have to take a closer look at that." 

The specialist's words had scared Scully. He was talking death and destruction as he continued to explain that 15% of all subjects bitten ended up in hospital, most of those 15 percent died, by the time anyone had figured out what it was hurting them. It all depended on the age and gender of the spider. Older Hobo males were the worst, and the most dangerous. Mulder had cheated death again. 

"The Clubionidae spider in particular, is a vicious little thing that eats its own mother. I have a hunch on where this breed came from, but I need to do some research. If I'm right, I'll let you know. In the meantime, I'll tell you all you need to know to treat your partner." 

"What else do I need to know?" Scully had asked. 

"You don't want me to get started on spiders," the specialist had continued. "You wouldn't sleep anymore at night." He told her everything he knew anyhow. 

Even now, Scully noticed that her partner was having difficulty with his eyesight, and trouble focusing on what she'd said. He was dreaming restlessly at night and was afraid of shadows and noises. Last night, he'd even slept with the light on, claiming that there were people standing in the shadows, and he kept hearing voices, as if someone was droning the same sentence over and over inside his head. Surely it was all in his imagination? 

It worried her too, that he was so cautious and suspicious about anything and anybody now. He demanded to have the bouquet of flowers removed from his room, convinced the spiders had nestled in there, and wanted to talk to the nurse who had wished him goodnight that evening, but couldn't remember her name. He could talk about nothing but the eyes of death; Sanpaku. 

"Don't you see, Scully?" he said on the third day after he was bitten. "It can't have been coincidence. Miss Jansu told me I was Sanpaku. She told me to be careful. I need to find out more what she meant." 

"Mulder, I did that already," Scully soothed him. "I thought about that expression too and did a bit of research on the Internet. It seems that the Japanese believe that people who "suffer" from sanpaku, are meant to die, but it's all superstition. There are thousands of people out there who have eyes that fit this description. Even John Lennon had them. Yoko Ono used to call him sanpaku too." 

"And look what happened to him," Mulder grunted. 

"Mulder, it's superstition. Nothing more." 

"Then how did those spiders get into my room?" 

"I don't know. The flowers, like you said yourself; Spiders have the habit of crawling into dark places, they could have been hiding in the bouquet. It's been known to happen." 

Mulder wasn't content with that explanation. He felt there was something more to it than just coincidence, he didn't believe in fate. 

"What if someone is deliberately trying to kill me, Scully?" he blurted out carefully. She stared at her partner. 

"What?" 

"It could be, couldn't it? I might have pissed someone off without knowing about it." 

"Who, and why? Why this way? Do you think your smoking friend is still out there trying to kill you?"   
"I don't know." Mulder shrugged. "Perhaps I upset them without even knowing about it. It's not as if I have seen an alien lately though." He sighed, shifting painfully. "Or maybe I just didn't pay my bills." 

"The arachnologist said this could happen; spiders are everywhere, even when we can't see them. They can be nestled near flowers or plants, in houses or warm places carried from elsewhere. This was an accident, Mulder. You were weakened before, and by the attack and your body responded badly to the bites, but that's all. It happens." Mulder angrily turned his face away from her. 

"Hey," she said, touching his skin. "Don't do that. I believe you, if you say that you think someone's trying to kill you, but you haven't pissed off anyone lately, so it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, wouldn't it?" He turned his face back to her. 

"`I pissed off a Japanese diplomat. Who sent me those flowers, Scully? They did, didn't they? I'm pretty sure Skinner didn't do it, and neither did you or the Gunmen." 

Scully held her breath as she realized the implications of Mulder's accusations. If she told Skinner of this, the riot between the Embassy and the FBI would explode with grave repercussions within the government. She couldn't do that, not before she had done her own little investigation, but Mulder was right about one thing; the Embassy had probably sent those flowers. 

"Look," she said, grasping her partner's hand. "You're feeling better. I'd say they're going to letting you out of here in about a day or so, why don't we take some time off and go away somewhere, like we intended? We can take a breather from all we've been through and make us see things a little clearer." He smiled. 

"I know you don't want to cause trouble, Scully, neither do I, but running away won't resolve a damn thing. We need to find out if they are trying to kill me, and why." 

"We can hardly burst in there and ask them, can we?" 

"And why not?" 

"Mulder, it's bad enough as it is, let's not go there yet. You don't want to start another war, do you?" 

"Isn't it worth it?" 

"Not without proof. We don't know what happened, and we can't prove a single thing." 

"What about that nurse?, the one who came into my room? Couldn't she be involved?" 

"She was just a night nurse, Mulder; She even helped with trying to find the spider. I doubt she would be doing this. She is a respected nurse in this hospital anyhow." 

"Okay then," he sighed. "Why don't you just take me home tomorrow to keep me company? I'll take a few days off, come back to work and move on. I'm sure you're right; I've been hallucinating so badly that I can hardly see straight. Shit happens and I need to get over it. How's that?" 

Scully felt disappointed that he wouldn't listen to her proposal of taking time off, and sighed. She wanted so badly for them to get away for a while. She would do anything. 

"Whatever you say, Mulder."   
He smiled suddenly, grasping her hand. 

"If you want to take that break, I'll do it. In fact, I'll do anything for you, if it makes you happy, and you're probably right; it would do us the world of good." 

"So we're going?" she asked hopefully. He gave her a big grin. "If you can arrange it with Skinner and spring me outta here, we are." 

"It's a done deal," and the broad smile she gave him lit up the room. 

Chapter two 

Part one 

"Baby, I'm ready to go" Mulder chanted as he sat calmly in his living room, impatiently watching Scully pack his things. She'd insisted on doing so, allowing - no, forcing - him to rest. She would be doing all the driving too, as they'd decided not to go too far from the Washington area. They had selected a smaller town called Ivory, situated near the coast. It wasn't exactly tourist season, so they'd had no difficulty picking out a town and booking a cosy hotel. Scully was really looking forward to it. She hadn't been on a break for the past six months and felt as if her mind was going to explode. The time off would do her, and Mulder good. She hated the circumstances, which brought them here, yet she cherished the fact they were now on their way out of town. 

Mulder had difficulty staring at the strange blue and green splodges that still decorated his home. The moment he walked into the apartment, he had held his breath, staring in shock at the disaster area that used to be his apartment, but now looked like a toddler's art canvas. Scully had tried to get things fixed before his return, but with the spider bite episode getting in the way, she'd spent more time at the hospital than anything else. She'd also regretted not being able to get a decorator in who could do the swift, thorough job, as she'd explained to her partner when she drove him home. 

At long last, she did manage to find a small start-up company who would come in to do the work while they were gone for the weekend, for a reasonably cheap rate, in the yellow pages. The guy in charge had promised to get things done quickly; so Scully had left the new set of keys with Skinner, who'd promised to oversee everything. 

Mulder groaned slightly as he waited impatiently for Scully. He had wanted to get out of the apartment at once; not even bothering with packing. He always kept T-shirts, underwear and an emergency toilet-kit with shaving gear, a washcloth and a small towel in his overnight bag; who needed anything else?, Scully had insisted on the packing, though, and had promised to be quick about it. 

"You would think we're going on a three-week trip," he'd called out to the bedroom where he could hear her rummaging through his closets. 

"I just want you to have enough clothes with you," she shouted back. "You never know what kind of weather it's going to be by the coast; you need to keep warm." 

"Warm, will not do the trick," Mulder whispered quietly to himself, as he stared at Planet 9 from Outer Space for the thousandth time. His mind was not with the movie; he was tired and exhausted. He'd been feeling cold ever since the spider venom in hospital had done a number on his immune system. The cold came not from the outside, but from within. 

He didn't feel safe anymore. At times it felt as if those critters came back to haunt him. In his dreams they came to him, they were everywhere, eating him alive, and when he didn't dream of spider bites, he relived being stabbed in the back by an unknown assailant, who hid his face behind a dark mask and was always after him. 

Was there anywhere safe for him? He couldn't help wondering. That word, `Sanpaku,' The Eyes of Death kept on haunting him; it was stuck inside his head. He had wanted to talk to the Jansu woman about it, but she was out of town. He had phoned the Embassy himself, only to hear that she wouldn't be willing to talk to him. It was also pretty obvious, that no one from the Embassy would be willing to discuss any accusations with him either. 

Through Terry Davis, Mulder had received word the Japanese government had inquired on his health and safety, inquiring if they could do anything for him. Mulder couldn't help but wonder if the concern was genuine or phoney. 

The spiders that bit him were still being examined by the arachnologist. Davis was still out manning the hunt for the muggers; security tapes had delivered nothing. No one had seen the two enter or leave the parking lot. They were at a dead end. The car was gone, as were Mulder's belongings. What more could he do? What more could anyone do? 

The hunch that somehow the Japanese officials were behind it, proved nothing; nor could be proved. For once Mulder knew he couldn't disobey orders. Skinner had explicitly asked him not to stir trouble when they discussed the possibilities. 

"It had to have been coincidence," Skinner stated. "I can't imagine they would take the risk of hurting a US official. Do you really think anyone would use poisonous spiders to kill you? Those creatures got carried in with the flowers, as you said yourself. There is no other explanation. You cannot go about accusing people of attempted murder." 

"Perhaps they know that nobody would really care," Mulder had grinned wryly. "They'd get a medal from Cancerman and his friends because they succeeded where others have failed." 

"I care, Mulder!" Skinner had blurted out. Mulder had grinned shyly at his boss. 

"Walter ..." The A.D. lost his guard for once and smiled openly. 

"Mulder, don't even go there. I care for you as a friend. It would be strange if I didn't after all this time." 

"Do you believe me then when I tell you that I fear for my life?" Mulder had asked. Skinner, shocked by Mulder's sudden openness, shook his head. 

"No, I don't believe that your life is in danger. I believe that you were the unfortunate victim of unfortunate events meant to kill you. You can't go on being afraid. I feel, as your friend and boss, that you need to talk to someone. You were the victim and should be treated as one. You need help. Counselling. Mulder, I know that there is a pattern here and we will find it. I am on your side." 

"But I do fear I'll be killed." Mulder whispered somberly. " And I'm afraid." 

"Why don't you tell Scully, how you feel?" 

"I don't want her to be afraid for me." That had left Skinner in silence even though they both knew Scully would never stop worrying for her partner. 

Mulder was staring now at his bandaged hand and lower arm. The hospital dressings had been replaced by smaller ones, with antibiotic salve underneath them to stop the bites from becoming infected. They'd told him it could be a while before the scars disappeared.  
At least he was feeling better. The nausea had passed, as well as the horrible headaches that plagued him for a couple of days; his eyesight was much better and less blurry now too. 

"Okay," Scully was holding a large overnight bag in her hand. "Let's go." Mulder switched off the VCR and slowly got up. This walking difficulty made him feel like an old man, but at least he was up and about again. It seemed as if he'd been in hospital for forever. He took his warm coat and put it on, shivering in it. It was the warmest piece of clothing he had and it was not enough. "You okay?" Scully asked as she cautiously watched his every move. 

"Yeah." 

"Okay then." 

Scully accompanied her partner outside, holding onto his arm. He allowed for her to open the passenger door. She helped him inside, worried about his lack of self-confidence and strength. He smiled broadly once he sat down. 

"Preparation for when we turn eighty, Scully." 

"Oh please," she replied with a smile, realizing she wouldn't mind doing this with him, for the rest of her life at all. She flushed at the sudden thoughts that sprung to mind. 

"So," he said, once they were both strapped in, "Ready to go?" 

"Yep." 

"Drive on, James." 

Scully started the car, pulling out of the private parking lot. It was a clear blue day with only a few clouds hiding the sun now and then. Mulder felt his whole body relax, tilting his head so he could face her. She was humming to a song. She was right, he thought, there was nothing to fear. 

"You're in a good mood," he remarked. 

"Yep." 

"I'm sorry, Scully." 

`What?" She smiled and glared at him. "What for?" 

"You work too hard." 

"And that's your fault?" 

"Of course it is." 

"I make my own decisions, Mulder. I'll decide when I have enough." 

"This break took too long to happen though. We should make time to have more fun." 

"Of course we should. But we made the decision to work our butts off ten years ago. I guess there's no stopping us now." He looked at her. 

"Do you ever think about us, Scully?" 

"Us?" 

"Yeah. You know. If there could be more.'" Scully almost felt her foot slip off the gas pedal when she grasped what Mulder was heading towards. She had waited for a conversation like this for a long time and now it was here; in their car and on their way to a small, comfortable hotel. Her heart jumped. Was this the moment she had been waiting forever, since he'd tried to kiss her for the first time? 

"Of course I do," she replied, feeling her throat close up. Why in god's name did he have to start talking about this now? She was still upset about recent events, remembering the many hours she'd spent, wide awake at her partner's bedside. She had watched Mulder for hours, watching him toss and turn in turmoil, until he could finally rest. He'd looked so fragile in that bed, so pale, so very sick. 

She wanted to protect him from everything evil in the world, but knew it would be an impossible task. He would never back down, but he would go back to work, take on the worst cases and get hurt all over again. It was in his blood to protect the good and innocent things in life. He could not do anything. He needed to do something. She respected that. 

She loved it. 

"And?" he asked her, awakening her from her thoughts. 

"And what?" 

"What do you think, when you think about us?" 

"I... think about what we could have," she said slowly. "If we would only allow ourselves to reach for it." He watched her intently, holding his breath as she moved onto the freeway heading out of town. 

"Don't you think we are reaching for it, then?" She smiled and blurted out, 

"Not nearly enough." He laughed. 

"So, if I were to ask you to share a room, would you do it?" She smiled. 

"No, I wouldn't do it." 

"Why not?" She groaned, realizing he was setting her up. 

"It would ruin certain things." He shifted closer to her suddenly, feeling herself flush again as she breathed in a waft of his aftershave. 

"But it would also make certain things better, wouldn't it?" Her mouth dried. 

"Mulder, are you serious about this?" 

"I ..." 

A split second later, the steering wheel started violently shaking. Mulder instinctively made a grab for it at the same time as Scully. Her feet reached for the breaks, slamming them down hard onto the pads as the car screeched, veering to the right, heading straight across the far side of the road on its collision course with other vehicles. 

"Scully!" Mulder's yell barely cleared his vocal chord as their car hit a Sedan driving next to them. The impact was ferocious; metal crashing eating into metal was heard for miles.   
The agents' car rebounded away like a pinball, swaying further off the road. Despite its loss of speed, the car hurtled back into the busy lane. 

"Scully!" She heard her partner shout her name for the second time just as the airbag exploded in her face. Seconds later, as the vehicle crunched to a noisy stop in the emergency lane, she battle and lost to the black abyss that claimed her. Everything about her: the essence of what she was, vanished into that darkness with her. 

Part two 

"Scully. Scully!" She was hearing her name frantically called over and over again. 

"Yeah, I'm here," Scully groaned, trying to gather her wits long enough to grasp where and how she was. She looked up , almost smothered by the exploded airbag before her, covering the steering wheel. A sharp pain lanced through her head where the airbag was touching her. 

"Damn it," she groaned, blinking her eyelids. She tried to remember where she was, or why she was there. Memories of the crash filtered through the fogginess she felt. Mulder! 

"You're fine," she heard Mulder's relieved voice next to her. There was a strain to his voice she barely recognized. He was leaning over her, eyes all concern and fear as she felt his hand brush her face. She looked over at him and attempted to smile. She seemed okay. Her body ached; her hands trembled. He looked extremely pale. She realized he was worried about her and not about himself, but her first concern went out to him. 

"Yes, Mulder, I'm fine," she reassured him quickly. "And what about you?" 

"I'm okay." Although his voice wasn't that convincing. 

She touched his face. His airbag had exploded too, protecting him from crashing into the dashboard, but she could tell he was in pain by the distraught grimace on his face. 

"Are you hurt?" Her mind jumped into doctor's mode as she patted down his hands, arms, torso and legs, checking for injuries. He submitted to her, not objecting to her quick examination. She was more worried because of his lack of objection; She wasn't used to him this compliant. 

"No," he said finally. 

"Sure? Do you think you get out of the car?" 

"I think so." 

Scully pushed open her car door just as two vehicles stopped, several men and women came rushing towards them. One man grasped her gently by the arm and helped her out of the car. She smiled, gratefully and thanked him. 

"My partner," she pointed at Mulder who was being helped by other people. "He's been hurt recently. Please be careful with him, gentle." 

To her relief, Mulder was quickly out of the car and looking okay despite their near miss, blood slowly returning to his face. She sighed deeply, trying to remember what had just happened. 

The car had handled strangely: it had veered to the right as the steering wheel locked. Mulder had tried to help her and she had lost control of it. They'd hit another car!   
She looked around frantically for the other vehicle, only to find out it was one of the two cars that had stopped on the roadside. Other cars whizzing past them began slow down to see what had happened. 

"Should we call an ambulance?" someone asked; she was looking into the face of the woman whose car she'd hit. 

"Yes," Mulder said, "Scully's hurt." 

"No, I'm okay," she immediately protested. "But it might be wise to get you checked out." 

"No, I won't go back," he snapped angrily. Scully touched him worriedly. 

"Are you Sure?" 

"Yeah. Let's just get things organized and get out of here then. I want to go home now." 

"Mulder -" Scully began, realizing he was no longer planning on going to Ivory. 

"No," he replied firmly. 

"Please." 

"Forget it. I'm going home." 

The people helping them thought they were witnesses to a marital dispute. They had no idea what lay behind Mulder's hurt expression or his curt words, but Scully was all too aware of what he was talking about, and she dreaded every second of it. 

"I'm going back," he reiterated, staring at her with pain filled eyes before turning his back to her. She felt a deep shock rush through her. A few minutes ago they were talking serious, personal business. She was looking forward to the weekend, now that entire feel good factor had gone out of the window. 

All she could do was witness the change that passed over him. Her heart hurt for him. She knew exactly what he was thinking, but she would have to deal with that later. Right now, somehow, she was going to get him to Ivory, no matter what it cost her but Mulder had already grabbed his cell phone and called Skinner. She could hear him asking for them to be picked up. He had made the decision for her and she couldn't be angry with him for it. She knew why he wouldn't look at her, and decided to return to DC. 

In his mind, there was no other choice. She sighed and tried to concentrate on the practicalities. Everything else would have to wait. She just prayed that all the goodness about to happen in their private lives was not lost. 

Part three 

They sat quietly in Skinner's car on their way back to D.C. Mulder had taken a seat in the back; as he usually did when he didn't want to talk. His eyes were focusing on the outside world, listening to the silence, seemingly in a world of his own now. She could tell by the far away look on his face, and the glare in his eyes that betrayed the darkness he lived with. 

He was in serious pain, Scully could tell. He instinctively clutched his sore side without even thinking about it. She knew he must have strained the still healing wound, reminding him of the previous attack. She wished she was sitting next to him and could give him some comfort and support, but he'd refused to talk to her for the last hour and she knew he wouldn't allow her to worry. He would never tell her the whole truth about his concerns; he was lost to her, for now. 

Skinner, painfully aware of the silence, drove back to town through the middle of a huge traffic jam caused by a serious accident. As they slid side by side with the other vehicles, Scully regretfully thought of the nice little hotel she had planned for them. She had seen photos of the place on the Internet and it all had seemed so lovely. Every fibre inside of her ached for peace and quiet. She knew she could not force him to change his mind; She just wished that he could get past the sudden fear that had flared up again the second she lost control over the steering wheel. 

"Stop!" Mulder suddenly shouted from the backseat. Skinner nearly lost his footing, startled by the agent's sudden outburst. "Stop the car!" he repeated, clutching the top of the front seat. 

"Mulder, we're in the middle of a traffic jam. I can't just stop here." 

"`You have to. I want to get out. Now!" 

"What? What the hell for?", the A.D. groaned but Mulder's dark glare stopped him from asking anymore questions. Skinner reluctantly drove the vehicle to the nearest exit and stopped on a parking lot where Mulder stepped out, cautiously clutching his side. Scully knew he had strained himself, but he still refused to allow her to take a look at it. She realized her partner was aware of the physical pain but not even that stopped him. 

Mulder's eyes were dazed and tired as he looked at them both. She read weariness in them that she didn't want to recognize. She forced herself to stay calm when he spoke again. 

"You need to get Scully to Ivory," the agent beseeched to Skinner. "I want her out of town." 

"Why?" 

"Just get her as far away from me as you can. I don't want her near me. It's too risky to even have her in the same car with me. She'll get hurt again." 

"Mulder, what the hell are you talking about?" Skinner demanded. "`Why are you doing this? Nothing happened. It was just an accident." 

"I know why," Scully spoke sadly, interrupting Skinner as she approached Mulder, who immediately took two steps backwards. 

"Don't come near me," he groaned, holding up both hands as if to stop them both. "I don't want you this close to me, I'm a danger to you. I'm cursed." 

Skinner gaped in disbelief, not understanding any of it. He stared at Mulder as if he'd gone mad, but Scully knew all too well. She knew he blamed himself for her shooting, and now he was blaming himself for this accident, the mugging, and the incident with the spiders. 

"Mulder, it's not your fault, none of this is," she spoke soothingly, trying to get through to her partner. His expression was one of bewilderment; his eyes had difficulty focusing and she could tell he was sweating slightly. Damn it, she thought. The exhaustion he was still suffering from when she'd picked him up from hospital earlier that morning was not doing him any good. His agitation and shock from this latest accident would only worsen things. Here they were, standing on a parking lot just outside D.C. arguing while they should have been enjoying a well overdue break in Ivory by now. She didn't like this reaction one bit. 

"If it anyone's fault, it is mine. I was driving remember? I lost control over the car. You didn't do anything. Not your fault, Mulder." 

"Like hell it was! This is the third `accident' in the past week. I'm growing tired of them, Scully. I'm growing tired of getting hurt and of hurting others in the process. I'm growing tired of seeing you the victim of something that is my responsibility, caused through me. I want you as far away from me as physically possible. I'm Sanpaku remember? Whatever is happening to me is getting worse. Anything could happen, and if you stay near me, you will die too." 

"Mulder, that's not true." Scully spoke gently as she reached out her hand to him. "You're going to be fine. Both of us will be. I'm okay. This accident and that's all it was, is nothing. We can move past this." 

"I'm always supposed to get past everything, all the time, right?" he spat out, furious at himself and the situation, swaying on his feet as he tried to get rid of the livid pain that plagued his head. "Nothing's real anymore, Scully. Don't you understand that? All of this is out of control. I am going to die. As long as this damned curse is upon me, I'll never be safe, not here, not anywhere. Don't you see that I want to protect you?" Tears sprung suddenly in her eyes. 

"By sending me away? By ignoring me?" 

"I am a walking disaster." 

"You've told me once before I should get as far away from you as I possibly can, but I'm still here. I won't leave this time either. You and I are one of a kind, Mulder, we need to stick together." He sighed wearily as he raised his hands. 

"I'm tired of talking. No one listens to what I have to say." 

"I listen." 

"No, you don't. You don't understand what I am trying to say. You tell me not to piss off the Japanese officials but you're not exactly eager to ask them about this, are you? You don't believe me when I say there's more to it than this. I've been threatened, Scully; that's what Sanpaku is about. Mariko Jansu warned me I was in danger. She predicted it. How could she have known if there wasn't already a curse on me, as you say? That could only mean that I'm being threatened; that my life is in danger. Why did the car crash back there, Scully? Why did the steering wheel falter? Was it coincidence, or could they have tampered with it? Or am I just going to take this and not be able to do anything about it? Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm saying this. I am going to die, aren't I? Something's terribly wrong about this whole situation and I can't do a damned thing about it. I don't know how to go from here, Scully." 

It didn't take an expert to see Mulder was losing it. To Scully's distress, he slumped forward and leaned heavily into the car, almost losing his balance. 

"Mulder." Within seconds she was by his side, grasping onto him, along Skinner's firm grip, making sure her partner didn't collapse on the spot. 

"I'm fine,' he groaned, shaking their hands off of him. "Leave me alone." 

Scully's expression was that of anger: she wanted to smack his butt right there and then. 

"No, I won't," Scully was furious now, delivering her `don't you dare mess with me, Mulder' tone that she kept only for times of distress or frustration with either him, or their cases. Although she knew there was no way her partner would listen to her now. And why would he? He'd been through so much already; what if he were right? What if this really had only one way to go? She didn't know and didn't want to think about it, but if he was right and someone at the Embassy was after him, they had a good chance of finding out. 

"I won't leave you to deal with this alone," she told him firmly, staring at Skinner who'd not said a single word since Mulder's outburst. Her boss gave her a warning glance. "I didn't come this far to dump you now." 

"We can't run," her partner sighed, looking into her eyes "If this is a curse and I'm the victim, I can't turn my back and hope that this will all go away if we leave town. I need to know. You can't deny this, Scully. I am in trouble. We both are, and if you're not going to help me find out, I'd rather go back on my own, while you're safely away from me." 

Scully chewed her bottom lip, reality hitting her hard. He was right on the nail; she had thought it would all go away, or hoped he was wrong. She was the one running from reality; the one pleading with him to take that weekend off. Instinctively she'd hoped that it was all a bad dream; that they would return to work on Monday and pretend nothing had happened, but her partner had suffered poisonous spiders bites, he'd been attacked and stabbed, and now he'd been in a freak accident too. All in the time span of less than a week. All of it after that woman had told him to watch his back. Scully didn't believe in coincidences or curses. 

"I'm sorry," she said as she tried to force back her tears. "I thought I was doing the right thing. You're sick, Mulder. Hurt. I couldn't -" The shivering turned to shaking as her partner's face became distraught. 

"Scully, I'm not feeling so well. I think I'm going to -" He didn't finish the words as his body slipped to the pavement. Skinner made a grab for him, but was too late to stop the agent from dropping like a stone. 

Damn it, Scully thought has her heart leaped in sheer fear and her body instinctively moved forward to aid her partner. He never should have left hospital. Yet she always allowed him to persuade him otherwise. 

Part four 

"I'll call for help," Skinner said as Scully instantly loosened her partner's clothes and felt his throat to check his pulse. He was lying stone cold on the ground. She nearly freaked out until she realized he actually had a strong heartbeat and pulse. She sighed with relief, stopping Skinner before he could dial 911. 

"Don't," she ordered him, with a wave of her hand. 

"He's sick, Scully." 

" I don't want him back in the hospital. He'd freak. He's lost consciousness, that's all. He's exhausted and at the end of his rope." 

"That's all?" 

"Yeah. He'll be fine in a moment. He's waking up already." Her hands in meantime, were scanning his sides and back. To her relief, she couldn't find any blood; the stitches had held. 

Skinner watched nervously as his female agent gave Mulder's cheek a gentle pat, to wake him up. He couldn't imagine Mulder hadn't hurt himself badly again. He seemed far too pale, but Scully was in control. 

"Hey," she cooed with the softest voice. "It's me." 

To the A.D.'s astonishment, Mulder opened his eyes almost instantly, dazed and confused, noticing that he was on the ground. Skinner knew his agent's body often fugued out when he worked on intense, traumatic cases. He'd seen it a lot before, but it still amazed him. Scully knew exactly how to deal with it, even though Skinner was shocked to learn that she wasn't about to send her partner back to hospital, which in his opinion, was where Mulder should be right now. She probably had reasons her reason not to, he figured. 

Scully helped her partner to sit up against the car door, once he'd remembered what had happened. Mulder seemed embarrassed with the situation and looked confused. 

"Do you have any water or something with you?' she asked, not looking up at the AD.   
Skinner shook his head. 

"No. There's a diner nearby where we could get something. I know this area." 

"That sounds like a good idea. Mulder - ?" 

"Yeah, I can make it," the stricken agent groaned as he pulled himself up. 

Scully supported her friend and helped him back into the car, this time sliding into the back with him. Mulder was ghastly pale and closed his eyes as Skinner drove the car to the diner, two blocks down. If it were up to the A.D., they'd be heading straight for a hospital, but Scully had asked him not to do so and he obeyed; She knew her partner's needs better than anyone. 

Within five minutes, they were sitting in a booth in the far end of the diner. Scully ordered tea for her partner and coffee for her and Skinner. Then she studied the menu long and hard, finally ordering a salad each for her and herself and Mulder, a hamburger for Skinner , who was also famished. Mulder pulled a face. 

"I get lettuce and he gets junk?" Scully laughed, despite everything. 

`You are Sanpaku remember?," she smiled, and he groaned at her joke. "She said you were eating too much junk as it was; but I'll make it up to you. If you behave like a good boy, I'll let you have a piece of apple pie for dessert. But you really should eat healthier first, Mulder. She was right about that." 

"Yummy." 

None of them spoke much until food arrived. Mulder didn't want to admit it but Scully was right. His stomach would have protested against the hamburger immediately. The salad went down like ... salad. 

Scully watched with satisfaction as he devoured the entire salad in silence. To her delight the colour had slowly returned to his face. She sighed tiredly as she finished her own salad, watching Skinner struggle with his hamburger in amusement. He was embarrassed to be spilling most of the content of it onto his plate, as he ate with both hands. 

"Feeling better?" she asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Good. Now you're going to listen to me." 

Both men looked at her as if she had wisdom written in her eyes. She was amused by their reactions and knew she had to profit from this moment to talk sense into her partner. She knew she had his attention now and would have to do her best to keep it. 

"Mulder," she began, "you were right when you accused me of running away for the problem. The truth is that I'm afraid. I'm scared that there might be a curse on you somehow, and that we can't prevent things from happening. I'm afraid that you might wake up in the morning, walk outside and walk under a car. I guess that in the hospital, I refused to believe that you were the victim, and that those spiders being there were just bad timing, a coincidence. One of those stupid things that happen at the worst possible time. I know now that I refused to believe in the possibility, that it was anything more than that, but this accident today, whatever caused it and however freakish it may have seemed, has forced me to open my eyes and realize that you had every right to be afraid. I'm afraid too. I don't want to admit to it, but I am. I don't know how to protect you or what to do, but I just know that I need to be there for you and take care of you." 

Mulder stared at his bandaged hand while she spoke, resisting the urge to tear off the dressing and start scratching at the aching wounds. They represented the feeling he had within him: the realization that underneath the surface there was so much more than met the eye.   
"I know they're behind this," he intoned quietly. "I know it. I can feel it. That man we worked with, Asari's assistant, Eicho Etsuko, he's doing this to me. He said something when we left. I can't recall what it was, but that look in his eyes was so strong." 

"Even with your eidetic memory?" 

"Hey, I don't speak Japanese." 

"Are you telling me he wanted those muggers to kill you?" 

"Perhaps he wanted them to frighten me; at least at first. Otherwise I would be dead by now. Or maybe I would've been dead anyhow if that parking attendant hadn't shown up. I don't know. I do know that those spiders in my room didn't get there by accident. I'm pretty certain that there's a connection tracing back to them. We just need to find out what." 

"Then we will find it," Skinner was resolute. Mulder looked up startled; he'd almost forgotten his boss was still there. He'd been quiet all this time, listening to their conversation. "Mulder, just say the word and I'll be willing to cause an international riot, but I need to make certain that you'll stand behind every word of your own accusation." 

"I don't know if I'm right," Mulder spoke softly, "but my gut feeling tells me that I am. We need to find Mariko Jansu and talk to her. She seemed to be an honest woman. She'll tell us the truth." 

"Perhaps that's why they sent her away," Scully offered. "They learned what she'd said somehow." 

"The rooms were bugged," Mulder replied. Skinner and Scully looked up. 

"Come on," Mulder laughed without humor, "don't tell me you didn't know. It was fairly obvious." 

"Would they have punished her?" 

"Nah, they wouldn't risk killing her. Besides, if my gut feeling is right, we might be dealing with a single man's crusade." Skinner laughed. 

"Sounds familiar, Mulder. You might get to like this Eicho Etsuko-character." 

"Who knows? If he ever learns to smile," Mulder grinned dryly. 

Scully's fear turned into relief when she realized her partner was doing better. He was smiling, joking and winking at her. He wasn't there yet, but on the road to recovery.   
He'd be okay.   
She hoped. 

"So," she enquired. "What do you think? Shall we go home together or have that long weekend first?" He looked at her. 

"Are you kidding me? You still want to go away?" She shrugged. 

"Look, you'd have to stay at my place anyway because they're redoing your place. We might as well make the best of it and take those few days off; we booked afterall. The trip and sea air will do us good. I'm sure Skinner wouldn't mind tracking down the elusive Miss Jansu." Skinner nodded. 

"She's right, Mulder. You need the break. Both of you do. That accident didn't change anything as far as I'm concerned. I could drop you off at a car rental agency. You might as well be spending the weekend in Ivory." 

"And what if I am jinxed?" Mulder asked fearfully. 

`Then I'll do my best to make sure you stay unharmed and safe," Scully vowed. "Besides, I'm a sceptic, remember? I don't believe in jinxes, curses or anything like that. I'll protect you." 

He looked at her and knew she would do exactly that. She would spend every second of their weekend looking after him, worrying about him and at the same time trying to figure out what to do next. She needed this weekend, even if he might never be safe again. 

"Okay," he caved in. "We're out of here." 

"On one condition," Scully interrupted. 

"And that is?" 

"You're going to sleep for the next ten hours or so." 

"I'm an insomniac, remember?" 

"I don't care. If need be, I'll knock you out myself. You are dead on your feet, Mulder. Or do you think I have forgotten that little fainting spell you pulled there?" He looked guilty now. She laughed at his boyish expression, resisting the urge to kiss him in front of Skinner; not that it would be the first time. 

"You're still a patient and I'm a doctor. Just don't forget that. Your hide is mine this weekend, got it?" 

"Yes, sir!" She laughed, wrapping her arms around him, forgetting for one moment she shouldn't be doing that in front of their boss. As if she cared. 

As they packed up and left the diner, Mulder watched his partner. They had been talking serious relationship stuff. What if she wanted to continue this in Ivory? Was he ready for this? Just an hour ago he had screamed at her to get away from him. He wasn't so sure that he would be able to pretend that nothing was wrong and move on. He just didn't know. 

Outside the diner, Mulder took deep breaths of fresh air. It was going to rain. Only a few days ago, he'd stood like this outside the Japanese Embassy feeling exhilarated.   
Could he ever feel that good again? 

He saw Skinner and Scully out of the corner of his eye, watching him with a worried expression firmly on their faces. 

"Let's go then," he walked over to Skinner's car, only to yanked back hard by his boss as a jeep going by on the driveway almost ran into him. Mulder felt his entire body shiver as Skinner released him. 

"That definitely wasn't a jinx," Skinner hissed. "You should also watch where you're going." Although he tried to hide it, Mulder was still shaking like a leaf as he climbed into the car. 

Part five 

As they drove to a rental car agency to pick up a vehicle for the weekend, Scully rang the small family hotel and asked them to hold the room until later that evening. She took care of business at the Avis-office and picked out a Ford. Being used to that type of vehicle, she decided it would be best, not wanting to take any chances. She even had the vehicle double-checked. 

As Skinner wished them a pleasant weekend, he also promised to have the towed car examined thoroughly, as soon as possible. The A.D. shook Mulder's hand. 

"Take care, Mulder. But I'm not going to wish you luck since nothing will happen to you. Not a damned thing." 

"You sound like a drill captain, sir." 

"I know. A hobby I might just cultivate. Now get the hell out of here." 

"Thanks for your support, sir," Scully smiled, giving her boss a quick hug, who then turned to his own car, embarrassed, watching them leave. 

Nervosa settled in as soon as she left the familiar D.C. roads and headed back towards the freeway. They didn't speak a word to each other until they passed the accident site. After that she began to relax and turned on the radio. When she turned to take a look at her partner, she noticed that he was asleep. His head slumped backwards against the passenger seat, his mouth was slightly opened. His body lying in an uncomfortable position with his legs stretched wide open. 

Scully smiled, satisfied, turned up the heating and lowered the radio volume as she softly hummed. She had never felt more content. 

They had booked two rooms in the Winston Family Hotel in the centre of the small town. It was nearly ten when they arrived, but the family didn't seem to mind at all. They were greeted heartily.   
"Glad you could make it after all," the landlady of the house chattered as her husband took their weekend bags upstairs. "I was afraid something might have happened." 

"It did,' Scully confessed while signing the register. "We had a little car accident on the way over." 

"Oh dear, are you two alright?" 

"Yes thanks, we're just fine." 

"Your friend looks like he's a bit off color though," Mrs. Winston pointed out while watching Mulder checking out the flyers for the town and coastline. 

"Oh, he's been rather sick. That's why we took this little trip." 

"Are you certain you don't want one room?" Mrs. Winston asked knowingly. "I'm sure you don't mind me asking if you two have -" 

"No, two rooms are just fine. We're good friends." 

"Oh. Okay then. Here are the keys. I hope you enjoy your stay. Would you like to have dinner tonight?" 

"No, we had something on the way over, but thank you. I'm sure we will enjoy it tomorrow." 

"Good to hear. Goodnight then." 

"Goodnight, Mrs. Winston." Mulder grinned broadly as they made their way upstairs. 

"I'm sure she thinks we are a match made in heaven." 

"Aren't we?" 

"Are you coming on to me again, Agent Scully?" 

"Pardon me; but it was you who began this conversation." 

"Yeah but I had no idea you would reply positively." 

"Are you saying you regret that?" 

"Not at all. Are you?" 

"Never." 

They shared a knowing glance before entering their beautifully cottage-style decorated rooms. From flowery curtains to matching wallpaper, to beautiful bedclothes, everything was nicely coordinated and no luxury was spared, within the room's fittings. A can of chilled water was set out with matching glasses; the television was displaying all the many channels they could enjoy. 

Mr. Winston, not exactly as talkative as his wife, smiled and left, as he dropped off their bags. Mulder looked around in his own room, at once feeling a heavy weight lifted off his shoulders. Scully was right; this was a good idea. Two days of walking, talking and resting was all he needed right now. They could worry about their problems on Monday. 

The town of Ivory had a historical centre point that dated back to the Civil War era. A museum held relics from the towns historical past, an ancient library with valuable books and a few paintings from European artists, adorned the walls. Every house in town seemed to have its own history and family that went back generations. The family genealogies were as almost as large as the family's inheritances. 

The patch of sand by the ocean Mulder had expected, turned out to be an expansive and sandy beach that was perfect for long walks. Several townsfolk profited from the relatively mild winter weather to enjoy the bracing wind on their faces. Mulder still shivered in his warm overcoat but the chill that he'd harboured for several weeks was gone. 

Scully knew her partner was became more relaxed by the hour, and had actually gained a bit of weight during the weekend. He was eating well and felt alive again. He chatted about Martha's Vineyard where he grew up and the memories he had as a kid from the beaches. His hometown wasn't that much different from Ivory. 

At times he hugged her to himself, putting his arm around her shoulder; a gentle gesture that betrayed the support they gave each other, and the friendship they both cherished so much. They were a content couple that somehow never made it to second base. She was not unhappy with that. Secretly fearing what would happen when they eventually shared a bed and so much more. Yet she knew that day was becoming inevitable and couldn't help but look forward to it. She sensed that one day they would share so much more, for the rest of their lives. She was eager to look to that future to see what happiness it held for them. It was all within their reach. 

Yet, she felt as if a large part of her didn't want to go there. Yet. She sensed that in him too. If they had become lovers before, it would have ruined so much. Could they really become lovers now, after ten years? Were they not meant to stay soul mates, and platonic friends? 

"A penny for your thoughts?," he smiled as he touched her nose with one playful finger. She looked up at him and saw the ocean breeze muss up through his hair. He looked much younger and boyish. And so vulnerable. She grinned at him and buried herself even tighter into his embrace. 

"I was thinking about the future." 

"Our future?"  
"Yeah. Our future." 

"I know what that holds in store." 

"Do you now?" 

"Yeah." He seized her hand and held it open. His thumb wavered gently over her palm and she could feel electricity rush through her as he touched her. It was the most sensual thing he had ever done, a warm sensation rushed strait to her abdomen in a way that she found hard to ignore. Oh god, she thought. Not now. Don't let me lose my self-control now. 

"I see us together when we're ninety years old. I'll be in a wheelchair and you'll be walking with two canes, except when you're pushing my chair. We live in a condo on Martha's Vineyard between all the rich and famous, who come there to die of old age. And we're rich, Scully. Loaded." 

"Really? How come?" 

"You become a Nobel prize winner. You are the world's most famous scientist and invented the drug that keeps everyone healthy. You're notorious and I have to fight to keep you with me; instead of losing you to some other, world famous scientist, but in the end you stay with me." 

"And what about you?" 

"Me?" He laughed. "I will have finally proven the existence of extraterrestrial life and have made my vast fortune from doing lectures on little green men and their habits. Now and then we vacation on Reticula when it's proven that the aliens are a peace-loving race." She smiled as he closed his hand over hers and grasped her fingers. 

"I like that," she hummed. 

" Know," he gave her a gentle squeeze. "So do I." 

Mulder never believed that he'd be able to take his mind off of things, but he succeeded in doing just that during their two, wonderful undisturbed days in the small town of Ivory. 

Part six 

It was nearly ten p.m. when they arrived back at Mulder's apartment. Scully felt reluctance at their return to reality, as she watched him open the door. The most fabulous weekend she'd ever had with him was over. She wished she could persuade Mulder to lose the crusade and retreat to a small town like Ivory with her for the rest of their lives. 

Perhaps it was a foreboding of things to come, she thought wearily as he pushed open the door; the apartment seemed gloomier than ever before. She watched him as he walked inside and stood still in the middle of the living room, shocked at what he saw. 

"What is it?" Scully asked as she rushed inside, fearing that the apartment might be even more screwed up than when they left, but what they saw startled her in the most positive sense of the word. 

The apartment was in perfect order. Everything was redecorated, giving the place a stunning new look. The walls were soft beige now. His few decorative paintings had been cleaned up and remounted. The aquarium was filled with fresh water; even the fish were clean. Scully couldn't help but wonder if they'd flushed the old ones down the toilet and secretly replaced them with new ones. 

Comfortable pile rugs in stunning colours, had replaced the old ones. They added flair of safety and homeliness to the place that it never had before. A couple of new sofa's had also appeared. Scully had asked the decorator to replace the old leather one because it had been totally ruined. The new ones were of a soft velour fabric that seemed to change colour whenever you rubbed it. She loved it. 

"My god," Mulder suddenly found his voice as he took in all the new details. 

"What? Don't you like it?" 

"I love it. I didn't know it could ever be like this." He laughed and turned towards her. 

"What have you done, you crazy woman?" She laughed as he pulled her into his arms in a strange, delirious mood. 

"I didn't do it. I just gave the decorator free reign" 

"He's good. Really good." 

"So you like it?" 

"I love it, honestly. Hell, I can actually keep the lights on now." 

Scully laughed as she finally threw her bag on the floor, taking in her partner's delight. She knew Mulder was feeling depressed as she drove back into town. She had sensed the change of mood in him as soon as they reached the outskirts of D.C. She had wanted to take the sorrow and worries away from him, knowing that's she couldn't. He would have to find a way to deal with them himself; but she was grateful for the relaxing weekend and knew that somehow, everything would turn out right. 

"You're tired," she said. "I have to go now. Skinner told you to take as much time off as you needed. I don't want you in the office tomorrow if you're still in physical pain, okay?"   
He turned around and walked over to her, taking her in his arms. Before she could react, he embraced her and kissed her gently. She closed her eyes at the contact; relishing the moment his lips touched hers. There was no tongue or anything else that betrayed his arousal; this was beautiful but chased, almost seeking approval. She knew that if he asked her to stay now, she would be like putty in his hands, but he did nothing. Just smiled, his whole face light up, his eyes an impossible shade of green. 

"Goodnight," he said as she left. 

"Goodnight. Don't forget to lock the doors." He laughed. 

"I always do and they still get in." She stood still. 

"Do you want me to stay?" 

"No. Don't be silly. We'll talk in the morning." 

"Mulder, you're not supposed to work tomorrow. You're still on sickleave." 

"Try stopping me," he replied with gritting teeth. "I'm going after my killer, Scully." 

"I strongly advice against it. Besides, Skinner would put you on desk duty anyhow." 

"I don't care. As long as I can work on finding out the truth, I am willing to work anywhere. Just don't expect me do to nothing, Scully. It would be against my nature to do so and you know it." 

"Yes, I do," she sighed gravely. 

She left with an uneasy feeling in her gut, a niggling that warned her to stay with her partner, if only to suppress that gloomy mood of his; but she didn't. He needed to be in his own space for a bit and so she left him to it. Stepping into her rental car, she made her way home. 

If only they could find Mariko Jansu. 

Part seven 

"I've found her," was the first thing Skinner said when Scully walked into the office, Monday morning. 

"Where is she?" 

"Tokyo." 

"Damn it. Do you think the FBI would be willing to pay a ticket for the flight out?" 

"I don't think so. But they would pick up the phone bill." 

"So you have a number?" 

"Her personal number even." 

"How?" Scully asked surprised. 

"Terry Davis dug it up for me. He received an extensive dossier on all the Japanese consultants working on the case, including her family's information. It took some calls and some called in favors, but he managed to get in touch with her. She's expecting a phone call from you." 

"So she's willing to speak with us?" 

"Seems that way. She didn't say no." 

"Good." 

"Where is Mulder?" 

"I don't know. I called him this morning and he was still half asleep. I don't think he'll be coming in today." 

"How's he doing?" 

"He was great during the weekend. I think he'll pull through." 

"But?" 

"But, the fears returned full force when we came back. It's as if he's afraid someone's watching him. I don't know, sir. I really don't know what to think." 

"Talk to Miss Jansu first and see what she has to say. Remember what I said; I don't mind stirring up a few diplomats to get things cleared out." 

"Thank you, sir." Scully glared at her watch, trying to figure out the time zone differences. "Screw it," she said out loud and rushed to the basement office. A few minutes later she was talking to Mariko Jansu. 

Part eight 

Mulder woke with difficulty from his stupor. He had been trapped inside dark dreams that prevented him from reaching the land of the living. Even when he woke up it seemed as if he was still in another place. He couldn't explain it. It was not like the hallucinations at all; the dreams were suffocating and dark, but not dangerous. 

He looked at his bare hand, noticing that the previously vicious red spots had turned into smaller scars that would take some time to disappear. At least they didn't itch anymore, thank god for small mercies. 

As soon as he sat up, his head swam. He sunk back into the pillows, sighing heavily as a slight feeling of nausea crept over his stomach. Where the hell did that come from? He'd felt just fine over the weekend. 

"Great," he muttered, figuring the after effects of the spider bites had returned. Or perhaps it was all in his mind. 

He groaned as he slipped out of bed and placed his bare feet on the cold tiles. Now that was a shock to wake up, he thought as he shuffled barefoot through the living room towards the kitchen. Scully had stopped at a night store to pick up fresh food when she'd dropped him off. He plucked a bagel out of a sealed bag and placed it in the ancient toaster his mother had given him years ago. 

He opened a new bottle of jam and sat at the small kitchen counter while chewing on the bagel, emptying two cups of coffee. He remembered Scully ringing earlier and debated going to the office or not. He probably should. It would be no use hanging about here. Besides, he wanted to know what was going on with his case. 

He dressed in jeans, pulling a sweater over a warm T-shirt, put on heavy boots over thick socks and pulled on his warmest overcoat over his clothes. The chills had returned.   
He was about to get into his car and hesitated a second, feeling odd, debating as he held the keys in his hand. Finally he changed his mind, walked back inside, using the payphone down the hall to call for a cab. He waited ten minutes in the blistering cold but it was worth it. 

"FBI's headquarters," he ordered and glanced over his shoulder to see if they were being followed. There didn't appear to be anyone tailing them. He breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back, as relaxed as he could afford to be. 

Half an hour or so later, he entered the FBI's lobby and walked straight to the elevators, nearly bumping into Terry Davis. 

"Mulder!" The AD he shook the agent's hand, barely containing his surprise at seeing him there. "I didn't know we could expect you back so quickly?" 

"You know me. I can't stay away." 

"And you're doing okay?" 

"Yeah." 

"Good to hear. I gave Skinner Jansu's number. If you need anything more, just name it." 

"Great, thanks. Yeah, perhaps there is something you could do for me." 

"Sure, like?" 

"Could you get me a file on Etsuko as well?" 

"Mr. Asari's right hand? Sure. What do you need to know?" 

"I'm just curious about his background." 

"Mulder, are you sure you're okay? You look a little rough around the edges." 

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just slept badly last night." 

"Okay then. Talk to you later. I'll deliver you that file." 

"Thanks." 

As the two men parted, Mulder stepped inside the elevator and waited patiently for it to head downwards to the basement. 

Scully was on the phone as he walked in. She waved for him to take a seat, as she leaned heavily into his chair. He watched her body rocking back and forth. He could tell she was on the phone with Mariko Jansu. Her voice sounded strained and her body was tense. He grasped a chair and sat down opposite the desk. Finally she hung up and sighed deeply. 

"Well?" 

"Well, Our Miss Jansu claims that she only wanted to warn you that you weren't healthy. She could tell by the Sanpaku-features you had; the seemingly unnatural white areas around your pupils. She was very surprised to learn that you've been in three incidents since, claiming that this is all just stupid superstition." 

"So why did she have to leave the country so quickly?" 

"She said she had already planned to. She'd only stayed in D.C. deliberately to finish off the negotiations, but her journey home had been planned for some time. There is nothing mysterious about that.'" 

"So in her opinion, no one is out to get me?" Mulder asked pessimistically. "And I have to believe that the stabbing and the other accidents, were just that, accidents?' 

"No. I guess not." 

"No?" 

Scully seemed worried, Mulder thought as she moved closer. Her fingers fiddled with a file that she picked up from the desk. He wondered what was in it. 

"Skinner had our car examined. It seems that someone had tampered with it, causing the steering wheel to lock." 

"But how? When?" 

"I don't know." She frowned and rubbed her forehead. "Mulder, I believe that we need to re-consider that someone was not out to get me, instead of you. Why else would they tamper with my car instead of yours?" 

"Because they were counting on the fact that you'd be driving me around. I was hurt, remember?" 

"Would they take the risk of me being in the car by myself?" 

"They might have known we were going away." 

"How?" 

"I don't know, Scully," Mulder said, raising his hands desperately. "By tracing us, keeping an eye on the building, tapping our phones - choices enough I'd say." 

"All I know now is that we can't prove anything." "Well, I'm going to prove it." 

"How?" she repeated. 

"I'm going to concentrate on our Mr. Etsuko. I'm fairly certain he was not wishing me `god's speed' when we left that night." Scully looked at her partner darkly. 

"Mulder, this isn't a serial killer we're chasing. We already caught a Japanese one remember? You don't want to go barging in and piss off more diplomats. This is beyond us. I'm pressing official charges against unknown assailants; that is all I can do as far as the car is concerned." 

"But you do believe now that someone is out to get us?" 

"Yes." 

"Then what are we going to about it? Sit on our Asses or pretend this is a case like any other?" 

"Is it wise for you to investigate a case where you're the victim?' 

"I am not a victim." 

"Yes, you are. If we're going with the theory that someone's been trying to kill you ever since that night, you were the victim of an attempted murder, not a mugging. This also means that someone deliberately planted those spiders in your room. Someone who had access to your room even when you were alone.' 

"The nurse. I know you don't want to believe me, but somehow I know she was involved. I could sense her presence and then something crawled all over me. What if she was cleaning those sheets to get rid of the evidence?" Scully thought about that. 

"Could be." 

"Well then?" 

"Let's find out." 

"Good, let's go do a bit of digging." 

"Wait a minute, where are you going?" Mulder turned by the door. 

"I'm going with you." 

"You shouldn't do that." 

"Why not?" 

"Don't go thinking that a short weekend trip to Ivory solved all your medical problems, Mulder. You still need to rest. In fact, I'd really prefer it if you were to stay at home and take it easy." He sighed, knowing she was right. 

"I'll tell you what. I'll make you a deal; we'll go to hospital together, and afterwards work on the case at home. How's that? I can rest, and you get to order me around. You know you like that." He leered at her, a little of his old self-trickling through. 

"Sounds pretty good to me," she gave him a resigned smile. 

"To be honest, I have asked Davis to get hold of the file on Etsuko as well," Mulder, admitted on the way out. I have this feeling he might be able to tell us more." 

"Why are you so certain it's him?" 

"I don't know. Call it a gut feeling. It's the same feeling you get when you get eye to eye with a killer. You just sense it. You know it when you look at him and talk to him. I want to talk to him again too, see what he has to say.'" 

"You mean confront him? I don't think that's such a good idea." 

"Skinner said he would do anything. 

"But did he mean it?" 

"Of course he did; the big guy wouldn't pull back on his word." Scully laughed. 

"The big guy?" 

"Yeah, don't tell him I said that." 

"I'm pretty sure he heard it for himself." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah. He's standing right behind you." 

Mulder turned to find his boss watching them in amusement, with a file in his hand. 

"So you want to go after Etsuko, do you?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Be gentle with him, will you?" 

"I'm always gentle, sir." 

"Terry Davis is going with you, to make sure that you are. He'll meet you at the Embassy." 

Part nine 

Mulder shivered as Scully entered the parking lot, parking the car on the exact same floor where he'd been attacked. He knew why she'd done it; at the hospital he'd confessed to her he was terrified of being attacked again and would rather avoid the spot where it had happened, but they would not run away from it. He had to go back there and see where it happened, and try to recall why or how. 

He was sweating by the time they'd walked over to the corner of the parking lot where ominous dark stains betrayed where he'd been struck down. He stopped dead, staring down at them; bewildered by the large area they covered. The blood was all gone but had left the stains all over the concrete. Someone obviously still needed to clean the concrete thoroughly. Had he really lost so much blood? Had he lay there half-dead, attacked by those punks? Was it truly all a coincidence or a more sinister reality betraying that someone wanted him dead? 

"Mulder?" Scully waited until, on heavy legs, he moved towards her. He could still feel the ache in his side where the knife had entered his body; where the stitches betrayed a life-long scar. 

He couldn't face this. No. 

He turned around moving away from that spot as fast as he could, only to stop in his tracks again. He had to go there. He had to see it. He had to face it, or he would never be able to enter a dark corner again for the rest of his life, and that would affect his job.  
He took a couple of deep breaths, closing his eyes as he turned back again; just a few steps. He could remember it, he knew. He could remember details that may have left his mind during recovery. He could perhaps recall certain aspects of those guys, that would help find them, he was sure that the trauma had blocked his normally eidetic memory.   
His head was spinning horribly now; he was so tired. He didn't want to face reality right now. 

"You have to try, Mulder," she urged him gently behind him. He knew she was right.  
He lifted his eyelids and stared at the stains. As he approached the site, memories assailed him: the knife protruding from his back and slicing into his artery, the pain paralysing him almost at once; the sharp agony as he fell down; the numbness and helplessness that his body displayed; the weariness inside his mind when he thought he was going to die and the fear that still lived within him; that sense of sheer hopelessness that was his constant companion as he walked on the streets these days; the carefulness he had given him a kind of sixth sense, even in small towns like Ivory. It still ate at away at him and he couldn't get rid of it. 

He was afraid in the dark, of dark places. He heard voices, footsteps and sensed danger everywhere. It took this little visit to the past to confront him with all of that. He sighed as his shaky hand touched his side. He didn't even know he was doing it until Scully grasped his fingers and pulled them away, pulling him into an easy embrace, offering what solace she could, hoping it might be enough. 

"It's okay," she said quietly. "It's over now." He shook his head. 

"It will never be over until I know the truth." 

"Come on. Let's face the truth then. Together." 

Part ten 

Davis was used to dealing with difficult people; he had not made it so far within the FBI because of his bluntness and direct approach. He had the knack of treating everyone as equals, yet having them react exactly how he wanted them to react. He was good at manipulating people in a way so that it always served his purpose. 

Mulder knew Davis had to have had a large impact on the Japanese Consul in order to get their suspect handed over to the US government; a strong negotiator alone could manage that. They needed someone like him now. Davis met them outside the Embassy's gates and looked serious. 

"I hope you know what you're doing, Mulder. Etsuko doesn't have a negative trace on him." 

"I don't know what I'm doing," the agent confessed, "I'm just following my gut feeling." 

"That's saved you before." 

"Yes, it has." 

"And you believe it's going to save you now." 

"Who knows? Maybe." Davis' fierce eyes rested on Mulder's strained expression. 

"I've never doubted your motivations or theories, Mulder. If you tell me that Etsuko might be involved, I will not hesitate to confront him. But you must realize what the consequences could be." 

"Our guy has already been delivered, right?" 

"Yes, fortunately." 

"Do they know why we are paying them a visit?" 

"Mr. Asari wasn't very keen on seeing you; despite the fact most of the issues have been cleared. He doesn't respect you, and for a Japanese man this is not a good sign. Without the respect he will not be terribly cooperative." Mulder smiled. 

"I'm just used to not being respected." 

"But never like this." He shrugged. 

"I wasn't planning on coming back here either, but if they have a reason to punish me, I want to know what it is." 

"And you believe they're going to tell you this straight out?" 

"Why not? They are very direct people." 

"Without an interpreter you might not even get a word out of them." 

"We'll just have to take that chance, won't we?" 

"Okay then," Davis sighed. "Let's go face the lions." 

The Embassy offered them the same meeting room that the agents had spent hours negotiating in. It was like a reunion with the unfriendly crowd that used to tease you in college. Mulder sighed as he checked out the room; it hadn't changed a bit since he first walked in. It was as discomforting and bland as before. 

Mr. Asari left them kicking their heels for a good fifteen minutes before entering. This time he hadn't bothered with his own interpreter or his right hand, Etsuko. He was alone and somehow that seemed to make him vulnerable and perhaps more talkative. The man bowed his head slightly as he shook hands with the agents and the A.D., starting with Davis. 

"Mr. Asari, thank you for seeing us on such short notice," Davis began as they waited for the Consul to sit. The man nodded, still not speaking, which made Scully nervous. She never knew what the man was thinking, only that it wasn't friendly. "The reason we want to talk with you is, is regarding a string of unfortunate incidents that have happened to Agent Mulder. Unfortunately, there is a possibility that someone from your embassy might be involved." This time Asari did talk, but his voice did not sound surprised or shocked in any way. 

"I feared that you would come," he spoke in fluent English, startling the agents. 

"Why is that , sir?" Mulder asked bluntly. Asari directed himself to Mulder for the first time since they had met, two weeks before. During all the discussions he'd never once looked at Mulder, not even when the agent made the unfortunate remark, thinking that no one was listening. Then, he had retreated into another room and let Etsuko do his dirty work. 

"You are Sanpaku,' Asari confirmed bluntly. "And therefore in danger. You need someone to blame your misfortune on, because my assistant, Miss Jansu, told you this, you feel that we are responsible for your accidents. We are not." 

"You know that I was stabbed?" 

"Yes." 

"Do you believe that anyone from your embassy might have reason to hurt me?" 

"No. You insulted us. We talked. It was over. We bear no grudges." 

"Could it be that someone else did this to me, without your knowledge?" 

"Nothing goes on without my knowledge." 

"You sent flowers to my hospital room, did you not?" Mulder asked. 

"I did. Yes." 

"Were you aware that they carried poisonous spiders?" 

"Spiders have the habit of crawling into places they are not welcome." 

"So they could have been in the flowers?" 

"Perhaps. I don't know. I'm not a spider specialist." Davis shared a glance with Mulder, knowing they would have to thread carefully now. 

"Mr. Asari, could it be that your assistant, Mr. Etsuko bears a personal grudge against Agent Mulder?" 

"If he does, I do not know about it." 

"Would you object to us questioning him?" Asari did not blink. 

"Yes, I would." Davis frowned. "....But I will allow it anyhow. I assure you that Mr. Etsuko will give his full cooperation, because I am convinced that he is not responsible for your agent's misfortune." 

"So Can we talk to him now?" Davis asked, starting to lose patience. 

"Yes, you can. He is waiting outside." 

"So you knew we would want to question him?' Mulder asked in wonder. 

"Of course I did." 

"Can I ask you why, sir?" Mr. Asari stood up and overlooked the three of them. He was graceful in his movements, and suddenly he smiled. It was strange to see a man laugh who hadn't previously been very open to them during the negotiations. 

"I knew what you were thinking the moment you contacted the embassy. I would have thought the same way. I can assure you that - if Mr. Etsuko has anything to do with this - he will be severely punished. We are not kind to those who betray us or cause us bad publicity; but he will not receive punishment, because I believe that he would not go beyond my wishes. He knows what the consequences would be. If you'll excuse me." 

Asari left before anyone could say another word. Mulder stared in shock at Davis and Scully, then burst out laughing. 

"My god, all this time we didn't even know the man could speak. And look at him now." 

"Be careful what you say, Mulder," Davis warned him. "These walls have ears. But I have to admit that I am very curious now, as to what Mr. Etsuko is going to say." 

"He won't say a word," Mulder predicted. "He'll sit down in that chair, look at us and keep to himself what he's thinking. He never has before and, never will." 

"So why did we come here?" 

"Because I want to see it in his eyes." Mulder sat down calmly and crossed his hands over each other. The scars were still visible, reminding him of the trauma he'd suffered. He would never forget those spiders, not for as long as he lived. He would never forgive the person who had put him through all that. Never. 

The door opened very silently. All three of them were startled when Etsuko appeared behind him then, without making a single sound. He expression as cold as ice as he sat on the other side of the table, taking the seat that Mr. Asari had vacated moments before. He placed his hands on the table as Mulder had done, his eyes meeting the Agent's. They filled him with a sudden chill, stone cold. They found the agent's glare in return. Mulder resisted it easily, staring back in a silent face off. 

A strange, intense silence grew in the room. Two opponents sitting across the table faced each other, while excluding the rest of the room. Scully watched in amazement. She knew that she and Davis were no longer part of this discussion. The silent interaction between the two strong-headed men spoke volumes to the strange animosity they both felt. 

Then Scully knew. She sensed it the same way Mulder would sense it: Etsuko was the one. Somehow, he'd done this to Mulder, punishing him. He had taken the law into his own hands for whatever revenge for an ill-timed comment. 

She could sense it like a dark blanket hanging over the room. The moment Etsuko had walked in, he'd conveyed sheer hatred towards Mulder, pure iciness and anger that lived in those who would kill to pursue their goal, no matter how trivial and minute because it pleased them to do so; but he was the type of man who could kill without remorse and get away with it. If he were true, why wasn't Mulder dead yet? Was it a slow death Etsuko had planned for him? A long, torturous road leading straight into the abyss? To destroy him piece by piece, until his mind and body could take no more? If that were so: how could they stop him? How could they possibly end this? 

Mulder's sudden movements interrupted her thoughts. He shoved his chair backwards, stood up, turned to Scully and looked very, very pale. She didn't understand. She left her chair too grasping his arm as he swayed while reaching for the door. 

"Mulder?" He shook his head. 

"I ...need to go," he merely said, pushing the door as if to run away. She had never seen him like this. He was out of the door in no time and as she went after him, she saw him enter the men's rooms. She hesitated; respecting the natural rules saying a woman should be going into the men's rooms. 

She turned instead and faced Etsuko who still sat with a huge grin on his face. It was a frightening, scary grin. 

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she asked angrily. "Happy with yourself?" 

Etsuko said absolutely nothing as he got up and left the room, passing within an inch or her. She was much smaller than him and felt frustrated. 

"I'll go after Mulder," Davis offered, leaving her alone in the corridor to twiddle her thumbs. She bit her lip, a habit she had stopped doing a long time ago. Somehow it felt appropriate now, whenever her partner was in trouble. 

"Mulder?" Davis walked into the beautifully decorated men's room - one of the few areas inside the embassy that actually looked comfortable - and found one of the cubicles locked. No response came out of it. 

"Mulder, open the door. It's Davis." 

"I'm here." Davis startled as Mulder moved out of the shadows, where he'd been standing for a while. 

"Damn it. Don't do that. You okay, man?" 

"Yeah." The agent nodded, immensely pale. 

"Tell that to your doctor. You look like shit." 

"It's nothing. My stomach protested." 

"Why?" 

"What do you mean; why? I'm not a doctor. I just needed to lose my breakfast, that's all." 

"How come you're feeling sick?" 

"Beats me. After effects of that damned spider venom, I think." 

"After four days?" 

"Yeah well, it's been known to happen. Or knowing my luck, I'm probably coming down with the flu."   
"Fabulous." Davis sighed, watching Mulder as he splashed icy cold water on his face, and washed his hands and neck, before drying himself off with a small towel. "Mulder, what happened with you and Etsuko?" The agent looked up. 

"I don't know." 

"What do you mean, you don't know?" 

"Like I am saying: I don't know. I just know it's him. It's in his eyes, Terry. He's the one." 

"So what are you going to do about it?" The agent shrugged. 

"What can I do? He'll never admit to it and you don't have anything on him. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what he does next." 

"You don't mean that," Terry replied, distraught at the thought of his friend playing sitting duck. "You know that Skinner and I would do anything to protect you." 

"Then we'll have to catch him in the act, won't we? It's ludicrous to think that he'll kill me himself. He'll never get his hands dirty." 

"We'll get them dirty. He'll make a mistake; just give it time. We'll be ready for him." 

Mulder would've almost laughed if it weren't for the situation he was in. He felt the deep foreboding of pending disaster rush through him, warning of things to come in the future. He'd seen it as plain as day in Etsuko's chilling eyes; the man had a death wish on him and it was not going to be easy. Sanpaku had nothing to do with jinxes or curses. It was a warning of one human being hunting for the blood of another. 

The punishment would be severe. 

"I'll have him arrested," Davis offered grudgingly, furious that he could do nothing against Etsuko. 

"Don't bother. Asari will never allow it. He'll protect his man. And what reason would you have to take him down? He's done nothing we can prove." 

"Something, somewhere has got to lead to him." 

"Our best hope is to find those punks, but they're probably out of town or and long gone. They didn't know I was an FBI-agent, Terry. I could hear them talking about it. He probably paid them off to hurt me, and when they when they saw my badge, they panicked. I don't think I was meant to die there; I was taken so by surprise, they could have just as easily stabbed me in the heart, or slit my throat. This was too easy." 

"And the spiders?" 

"The arachnologist said they were poisonous, but not lethal when you get treated in time. My guess is that our Mr. Etsuko is planning on killing me slowly. He'll take his time and use several means to do so. He's also planning on the fact that the attempts on my life are being considered as accidents, or just being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. He probably was surprised that we caught onto his game so quickly." 

"But he was expecting it?" 

"My guess? Yes. He wants me to know that he is the one killing me." 

"So we have a calculating killer on our hands?" 

"No, we have a potential killer on our hands, unless you can prove that he has done it before." 

"The files came back clean." 

"You'll need to dig further. Go into his past in back in Japan, see if he's been involved in strange events or deaths." 

"No one is going to help us, Mulder." The agent sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

"I know. Just need to feel like we're doing something..." 

"All I can do now is give you protection." 

"Against what; and for how long? You know it might take a long, long time. He's got all the time he needs. It's his ballgame. " As they walked outside, Scully walked over to them looking very distraught. 

"I need to get out of here," she said numbly. "This place is giving me the creeps."   
They didn't need to ask her why. Outside, Scully took deep breaths to get her equilibrium back before turning towards her partner. "What now?" she asked darkly, eager to get him back home. He gave her a sad half smile. 

"There's nothing we can do here. Let's go home." 

Scully was deeply shocked that her partner wouldn't do anything more; but he was right. What could they do? 

"I swear I'll find something on that guy," Davis vowed. Mulder smiled and placed his hand on the man's shoulder. 

"Thanks Terry." 

As they parted, Scully noticed her partner didn't even react at the sight of his blood on the parking lot this time. His mind was far away from this place. His eyes had darkened, and were focused on infinitely more disturbing future only he could envisage rather, than anything in the present. She realised that he was terrified. 

From here on in, he was a sitting duck; anything could happen to him. Today, tomorrow, next week, next month ... it could happen at any time and in any other terrible way. Protection would not help. Nothing would help him. He turned and gave her a wry smile. 

"Lunch? My treat." Immediately, she felt her heart sink when she realized he'd accepted his possible fate. He might, but she wouldn't accept it. Not as long as they lived and breathed. 

Chapter three 

Part one 

Scully felt the onset of a nagging headache while grabbing her coat and purse, heading out the door. She'd left Mulder asleep on his couch, a blanket over him. He was fast asleep now and did not seem very worried. He was exhausted after that morning's encounter at the embassy. She knew they it had put a strain on his health; the benefit from the weekend in Ivory had almost entirely been destroyed. 

Even now, as she headed off to do some quick shopping, she could feel the warmth that had left them. Mulder was distant again and not willing to discuss the situation with her. She knew that somehow, he was already preparing for his possible fate. He was not ready to take her in his arms again yet, and tell her he cared. As long as Etsuko threat hadn't been neutralised, he wouldn't be able to again. What would it take to get to that point? 

How could they proceed? 

She knew she had to talk to Mariko Jansu again. Perhaps this wise, beautiful woman had some ideas on how to pursue the investigation into Etsuko's past. She might even have information about him, or this death wish tradition, that no one else knew. She seemed to have her affairs, very much in order; she had a respected position, and would be up to date on her colleagues. 

Yeah, she would try to call Mariko again in a few moments. She had called Skinner from Mulder's apartment, informing him on the latest situation. Skinner already knew; Davis had been to see him in his office a few moments before. 

"I will get Mulder protected," he'd vowed. "This will not be the end of it." 

"I wish there was more we could do," she had replied. "I just feel that we're sitting here like a big bull's-eye, waiting for the next catastrophe to hit us dead centre. There must be something we can do." 

Mulder, who'd been listening to her side of the conversation, had left the room to fetch them some coffee from the kitchen. His behaviour was odd but understandable. She just wished that he would talk to her. She wanted to know what he had talked to Davis about, but knew neither would ever tell. If only she could help more. 

She locked the door using her key on the way out. She was not afraid when she hopped into her new rental car that she'd picked up early this morning, before heading for the office. She knew Etsuko would not try to pull the same trick twice. 

If only that headache would go away. The nausea that had started to niggle at her didn't help, either making her feel like shit. It had been a long day, and it wasn't over yet. She wanted to get the shopping down quickly and then head back to check on Mulder. He needed her, even though he wouldn't say it out loud. 

Mulder awoke by the sound of the door closing, instantly he jumped up, automatically reaching for his gun. Whenever he felt unsafe, he kept his weapon near him, ready to aim it at anyone trying to break in; but it was only Scully leaving that had startled him, he realized soon enough. 

He saw a little note on the table. `Back in a jiff.' He nearly smiled and then became all too aware of the crushing silence within his apartment. He abhorred silence. His imagination played tricks on him these days, hearing little creeping sounds all around him, making him jump at the slightest noise. Even in Ivory, in the safety of that cosy hotel room, he hadn't really felt safe. He had locked the doors and triple checked under the bed, the closet and the window like some paranoid idiot. That's what he'd felt he had become now. He just couldn't shake off that feeling. 

Even now, with Scully barely gone, he wished he could rush after her and beg her to come back. He wanted to be somewhere else, despite the new rugs, the freshly painted walls and the new decorations that were supposed to cheer him up. He didn't like it one little bit. He had a thing for the old leather couch; he hated the new one. It didn't feel like home anymore. Why did those bastards have to do that to him? 

He got up slowly and reached for the new key chain. Even that felt unfamiliar these days; he had new locks, new keys and a new key chain with Bart Simpson's head on it. He ached for a bit of security and return to the old ways. It seemed all gone now and he could not grasp it again. 

He was feeling dizzy as he dragged his heavy legs to the bathroom and threw cold water in his face. He looked up, startled by the weariness in his own eyes. He looked pale, exhausted and very sick. Why hadn't he seen that before? No wonder Scully was so worried about him. He must have lost some weight too. Damn it. 

He balked away from his own image and felt frustration building up. In his entire life he'd been on the verge of a breakdown countless times and it still would not stop. He was probably one of the strongest men he knew; yet it felt as if right now a great protective wall was being torn down around him, brick by brick. Nothing worked anymore. Since the second that knife had slashed into him, he had not felt himself. Was he ever going to feel that way again? 

Most of his adult decisions had been based on a thorough examination of situations, ideas, theories and calculations. He was the one chasing the bad guys. He had never allowed the bad guy to chase him, to spook him and to haunt him the way this so menacingly was. 

He had to get back to that point. He had to get the control back. 

He sunk back into the couch and switched on the television. At least that still felt familiar. Strange that those guys hadn't touched any of the hardware, he thought. Why wouldn't they wreck the TV and DVD as well, when they even ruined the fish tank? Anything valuable would have appealed to normal robbers, especially those after quick drug fix money; he had quite a bit of decent equipment they could have sold on the black market easily for the purpose of making easy cash. 

It was as if they had deliberately destroyed his decor while being careful with everything else. He would have to figure that one out. 

Davis, Skinner and Scully had told him to stay put at home and rest; but that didn't mean he couldn't work. Davis had created a case file on him, adding all the details on the stabbing, the spiders and what little they had on the car accident. He would start there. He had remembered certain bits and pieces in the parking lot. If he thought long and hard, he might recall more. Right now, anything would help. 

Part two 

Mulder found it very difficult when he stared at the medical reports on his own situation. Usually he never got his hands on those, feeling confused about the medical terminology they'd used to described his condition. 

Now, he saw a clear description on the knife wound that had severed an artery and nearly caused him to bleed to death. Even now he was still taking iron tablets to help with healing and restore his reserves. He still felt weak. He hadn't gone out for a good jog in over two weeks now and missed it. 

He sighed as he reread his medical report to commit all the details to his photographic memory. He wanted to get the facts straight. 

He then moved on to the arachnochologist report on the spiders. The hobo-spider was a common species that lived and breathed inside these parts of the US, but the other one was a strange little creature. The arachnochologist still hadn't gotten back to them with his report. Mulder made a mental note to call him later. 

The third spider found smashed on his bed, was also a hobo variant, and probably the one that had done the worst damage; an older male who carried most of the venom. It still remained odd that any of these spiders would attack him. They usually shied away from people unless being threatened. At least that's what he remembered from watching the National Geographic channel. He'd sat through dozens of spider-eating-other-things shows, as a kid, when he was still eager to become a scientist. That was before Samantha's disappearance. After that, he became so upset that no one wanted to spend time on discussing alien life forms that haunted him, so had to resort to watching old Star Trek reruns. 

He shoved the report angrily aside and dug up the file on Etsuko again. Davis was right; it was as clean as a whistle. Yet none of them doubted the man's involvement. It was there if you read between the lines. This character was as bad as any of the killers he had ever profiled. Or worse. He killed without a good reason, simply for the hell of it, with very little provocation. 

The agent closed the report and let his head lean backwards on the unfamiliar cushions. He was missing something. What was it? 

The punks in the parking lot; they had been lying in wait for him. But how had they gotten inside that parking lot without being spotted? Had someone tampered with the security tapes? Or had they found another way of entering that lot? He could still see their eyes; they were the only part of their faces that weren't hidden. 

They'd been wearing doo rags and wide hoods to cover their appearance. They looked like they were impersonating Eminem. He couldn't create a profile of them by their eyes only, could he? Not a single print had been lifted at his apartment. Everything was smeared or smudged. They had nothing to go on. 

Suddenly it struck him. Then he froze; they hadn't seemed like punks at all. One of them had been wearing an expensive watch. He noticed it, as he was threatened with the gun pushed into his face; they hadn't spoken roughly, their accents were well educated. The clothes they wore didn't come from any second hand stores either. They were educated guys. They weren't punks at all. 

That was the lead he had to follow. 

Mulder grabbed his coat, put the gun in the holster, and left the apartment based to follow up on his hunch. 

Part three 

Mulder didn't take his own car but hailed a taxi instead, looking at the driver suspiciously before getting in. She seemed like a decent sort of gal who wouldn't pose a threat, but he could never be too careful, these days. He gave the address of the Japanese Embassy and leaned backwards nervously as the cab brought him there for the second time in a day. 

"Just park across the street," he said, offering her a huge tip. "Would you mind waiting? I won't be longer than ten minutes." 

"Sure." 

Mulder walked into the parking lot and straight up to the booth where an older man was working. Flashing his badge, he inquired if the other attendant would be in today. 

"He quit his job a few days ago. Said he was tired of waving a gun at every strange sound he heard." 

"Do you have his address?" 

"Let me check." Within five minutes Mulder walked out clutching the man's home address. 

"Thought you were going to take ten minutes," the cab driver smiled as she threw her burning cigarette on the ground. 

"Yeah well, if you're patient enough, you can drive me around a bit more and make some money out of it." 

"Sure." 

Half an hour later, Mulder stood in front of the parking lot attendant's home and rang the bell, while the cab driver lit her second cigarette. It took a while, but then the door opened and the attendant, a sturdy man, looked in surprise at Mulder, trying to recall where he'd last seen him. 

"Mr. Fuller, my name is Fox Mulder." 

"Yeah, I remember you!" he exclaimed, shaking Mulder's hand forcefully. "Last time you didn't look so grand, lad." To his amusement the sturdy redhead freckled man turned out to be Irish. "Come in, come in. Tea?" 

"Do you have coffee?" 

"Sure." 

"Hang on for a second." Mulder turned towards the cab driver and smiled, handing her a twenty. "This is going to take a while longer. I'll find another ride home." 

"Sure? I don't mind the wait." 

"Yeah. It's okay. Thanks. " 

"Bye,' she said with regret, hopping into her cab and taking off. 

Mulder smiled and closed the door behind him. The scent of fresh coffee appealed to him. He was hungry too and saw to his relief that Fuller had set up a whole plate of cookies. 

"Help yourself." 

"Thanks."  
"You still look a quite sick, but better than I would have expected from a man who got stabbed." 

"I think I owe you my life. If you hadn't come along...." 

"Don't mention it. Good thing I check the cameras regularly." 

"Actually, that's what I am here for. I was wondering about something. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?" 

"Sure, fire away. They didn't get those punks, did they?" 

"No, not yet." 

"Damn it. I hate it when things like this happen. I quit my job over it. I was really upset when you were hurt, and figured that I wouldn't be spending the rest of my life with a gun hovering on my lap, just in case. It wasn't the first time something bad happened, you know. There were reasons why I had that gun." 

"I understand that," Mulder spoke, chewing on a cookie as he fought against heightening nausea in his stomach. He was not feeling too well. 

"So, what do you want to ask?" 

"You said that you didn't see those punks come in the garage." 

"That's right." 

"And you double checked all the tapes?" 

"Yes, I did. I'm telling you, that no one looking remotely like them, entered the garage. I would have spotted them immediately. It was a very calm evening and there were a maximum of fifteen to twenty cars parked. I would have spotted them." 

"Could it be that they entered the garage earlier?" 

"They would have been there for at least two hours then; I had the late all-nighter shift. But my colleague didn't mention them either." 

"I have this theory," Mulder told him calmly. "Bear with me for a moment. I don't think that those punks were punks at all, but decent kids, disguised to look that way. I have good reason to believe that someone paid them to scare me off." 

"Really?" Fuller held his breath. "Jeez." 

"I know." Mulder smiled. "You now understand the predicament I'm in. I need to find out if I'm correct, without stirring up my superior's. They need proof and I want to check into ,all the possibilities before drawing any conclusions. So, I would need to know from you, if there were any cars with young men entering the lot before I came. There would have been two people in a rather decent car, would be my guess. Young probably; maximum thirty years old." 

"I'd have to think about that." 

"Take your time." He frowned. 

"I do remember a car with two youngsters in it, now; both white boys. Looked no older than twenty-four, twenty-five. They turned up about an hour before you came and looked rather nervous. They were dressed in decent clothes. Driving a BMW as I recall." 

"Are you certain about that?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I am because I remember that the car was still there the day after. My colleague told me that only one of them came back for it. He had to pay a huge fee and was upset about it, claiming he had entered the lot very late in the evening, and wasn't willing to cough up the bucks." 

"Do you remember seeing those guys leave?" 

"I don't know." Fuller sighed as he rubbed his eyelids. "Let me think. I think that they left. I was talking to a woman when they passed me. Or no, that was that older man with his lady friend. Now that you mention it, I don't recall seeing them leave. They arrived during a busy streak along with four other cars. There's this theatre nearby, that shows late night performances of the ... you know - erotic kind. Most people arrive late in the evening. They are good payers though; always a tip." Fuller smiled. "I guess they had a really good time." 

"And I'm sure the Japanese like having such a theatre around.." Fuller shrugged. 

"They're good payers too, if they ever park here. They have their own lot across the street, but I do have a few regulars parking here daily. Or had, at least." He sighed. "Did I do the right thing giving up that job?" 

"If it had became tiresome, yes you did. Can I ask you one more question?" 

"Sure." 

"Do you have another copy of those tapes here?" 

"No, I haven't. I turned them all over to your boss; an Assistant-Director. Davis, I believe." 

"Thank you for your time." Mulder shoved his chair backwards, swaying on his feet as he shook hands with Fuller. 

"Are you okay?" fuller's voice full of worry. "You look a bit green." "Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled. "I guess you make one hell of a strong cup of coffee." 

"Guess so. Do you need a ride?" Mulder thought about his options and smiled. 

"Actually, that would be a great idea. If you don't mind, that is." 

"No problem. I could use a distraction." 

Seated in Fuller's car, Mulder looked at the decorated dashboard and wondered why people had the habit of doing that; decorating their car as if it were another trophy. Was the BMW of his two potential attackers on the same lot when he walked through it? He closed his eyes and tried to remember. There was one foreign car that he passed on his way to the edge of the lot, A silver grey Beamer. Yeah, that must have been the one he remembered now. 

"You know, would you mind dropping me off at the FBI instead?" he asked, looking at Fuller. 

"Sure. But shouldn't you be resting? You really look crappy." 

"Nah, I'll be okay." 

As he exited the car and thanked Fuller, Mulder reached up to find his legs heavy and almost unable to carry him. The cookies he'd eaten that had looked, tasted and smelled so delicious now lay like heavy bricks in his stomach. 

How he reached the men's rooms, he couldn't remember later on, but he did recall throwing up whatever was left inside his guts. As he leaned exhaustedly against the tiled wall, he wondered why in the world he was doing this to himself. He might as well sit at home and die peacefully. 

Part four 

"There! That's the car," Mulder shouted in triumph as his finger tapped on the monitor showing the security tapes. The technician pushed the freeze frame button so that both A.D.'s and Mulder, could take a clearer look at the silver grey BMW that had remained on the second floor of the parking lot, at the same time of his attack. The licence plate could clearly be read. 

"Mulder, what you are claiming does stretch it a bit." Skinner exclaimed as he jotted down the plate, despite the fact he had seen Mulder's claims come true many times before. 

"It's not," the agent retorted. "Russell Fuller said he didn't know how those guys entered the lot. We have a tape showing the BMW clearly driving up into the lot; it's the only vehicle holding two men in it, which fit the attackers description. We don't have footage of the driver and his friend leaving the lot. They must have been waiting inside the car, changing clothes. They took a parking space outside of the camera's range. You can see how they snuck up after me from the shadows, when I got as far as the car. That's why I never heard them; they were behind me, waiting for me hidden by the cover of their vehicle. They knew I was coming because they were warned. If you find that Beamer, you'll find them too." 

"Why would wealthy young men do this?" Davis asked. "That car's not exactly scrap heap material." 

"The same reason why killers kill, or spoiled little rich kids commit rape and any other crime you care to name; they get bored. Or perhaps they needed money to pay for their drug habits. Or they might have been blackmailed. Who knows?" 

"Let's find out," Davis said, grabbing the phone, glaring at Mulder. "Does Scully know where you are?" 

"No." 

"Shouldn't you call her?" 

"I will in a moment," Mulder spoke absently, focusing on Davis. 

Both Davis and Skinner knew Mulder's expression all too well, and the tone of his voice; he was in profiler land going after his killers. It wouldn't take him too long to make the right connections to find them now. The question only was, if the agent's hunch was right on the mark. 

Davis shook his head in wonder; a few hours later, Mulder had reached a conclusion none of them could've have thought of, going over the attack again and again. He'd put a huge strain on himself, returning to that dark place where he was the victim and not the pursuer, but he had done it. Even now, Skinner noticed the agent's eyes focusing on the monitor as the footage continued, replaying his own vicious attack. The agent reran the tape three times before stabbing the off-button. 

Davis also spotted the beads of sweat glistening on the younger man's forehead, and the way he chewed on his lip, as he stared at the image of himself lying helplessly bleeding, on the ground. It was probably the first time he'd seen this, it would have shocked anyone to watch this, let alone for the person on the receiving end of the violence. 

"I didn't hear it," he heard Mulder whisper hoarsely after turning off the tape. "How could I defend myself, then if I didn't even know?" His eyes were bright with barely concealed tears and disgust at his own helplessness. 

"If you had defended yourself, you would have died," Skinner replied, placing his hand on the agent's shoulder firmly. 

"Is it better then, not to defend yourself?" 

"Sometimes it is." 

"Do you say that to all the victims?" 

"You are not a victim." 

"Like hell I'm not." Mulder's eyes blazed fire as he turned himself away from his boss and stalked over to the door. "I'm tired of being one, I hate it." 

The agent already had his hand on the doorknob, and the door partially open when he slammed it close again, frightening both Directors. 

"I'm so tired of this," he snapped forcefully. "I want this to be over. I want you to go out, haul in those two kids and force the truth out of them. I want to live a normal life again, without being afraid to walk out of the door in case a ton of bricks falls on top of me. I'm tired of looking underneath the bed for spiders or snakes, or any other damned thing that might be hiding under there." 

Skinner didn't know how to react. He'd seen his agent like this once before; drugged and out of control after some dark government agency wanted to get rid of him. His behaviour now was lingering towards that, but this time it was invoked by complete fear. 

The agent shook his head, dazed with the strength of his own fury. He saw red. His legs seemed unable to hold him and he almost lost his grip with the door, until Skinner grabbed him, pushing him towards a chair. The agent lumbered forward, leaning over onto his knees as he took deep breaths. 

"Mulder, I don't know what's going on with you, but you obviously put a great strain on yourself today. Why don't you go home now, rest and allow us to take it from here?" 

"No." The agent stubbornly shook his head. "I want to see them first. Talk to them." 

"We'll have to get them first. Davis is working on it." 

"You will get them. You've got their license plate. It's them. Go pick them up." 

"We need that warrant." Mulder looked up tiredly. "How long?" 

Skinner looked at Davis. 

"I can try to get a warrant today," he offered, "but no promises. The judge needs more proof than this." 

"Pull some strings then."   
"I might have it by tomorrow." 

"I may not have a tomorrow," Mulder spoke hoarsely. "You need to get this done today." 

"Etsuko won't risk killing you, Mulder," Skinner replied gently. "Not when he knows that we're on to him." 

"That won't stop him. He's made a vow to destroy me. Getting those kids to talk is my last chance." Skinner felt an icy fist go around his heart as he took in the agent's expression, realizing Mulder was displaying almost hysterical paranoia and his spooky sense was working overtime, like he felt a connection with Etsuko. Skinner couldn't have known that even at this very moment, Mulder was sensing Etsuko preparing for final battle, eager to move forward now that the agent knew the truth. It was anyone's guess as to what he had in store for him. 

"I'll be right back," Davis said, leaving the room. 

"Let me see what I can do too," Skinner offered. "I want you to stay here and relax. Get Scully on the phone and tell her where you are. She'll be freaked if she notices you gone." 

"Thanks Walter." Mulder smiled softly. "Thank you for your concern, too. I just want you to know how much I appreciate all you're doing." The A.D. opened and closed his mouth, not wanting to say goodbye to Mulder yet, the agent was already facing possible oblivion. As Skinner closed his door, he ordered Kim not to allow anyone to disturb Mulder and promised to be back in half an hour. 

Mulder stayed behind in the office and took a seat on the couch, resting his head backwards as he stared at a watercolour painting on the wall before him. Strange, he thought, Skinner had never seemed like the watercolour kind of guy. He closed his eyes and almost instantly drifted off into a deep sleep. 

Part five 

"Mulder?" Scully entered the apartment and dropped her heavy grocery bags on the kitchen table. She had expected Mulder to respond immediately but he hadn't. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. 

"Mulder, are you here?" She strolled through the entire apartment, not finding a single trace of her partner, not even a hastily jotted down note; fear instantly rushing through her. She had wanted her partner to stay at home and rest up after today's very tiring ordeal. If he had gone, he must have left with good reason. Or perhaps Etsuko had taken him. The thought chilled her. 

She was so angry with herself; the lines in the supermarket had been enormous during this time of day. It seemed to take forever to get her grocery shopping done; and then she'd forgotten to pick up Tylenol, forcing her to return to the store once more. The shopping had taken an hour longer than she'd intended; enough time for Etsuko to act. 

She hastily shoved the Ben & Jerry's Vanilla Fudge delicacy into the freezer while dialling Mulder's number. When his voicemail jumped on after ten rings, she became even more afraid. Her head began to ache horribly. She sighed as she rubbed her eyelids, dialing Skinner's number. He responded almost immediately. 

"Mulder's gone," she sounded horrified. 

"Scully, calm down. He's with me." 

"What? How?" 

"He showed up at the office, very agitated. He thinks he knows who attacked him. I'm with Davis right now. We're trying to get a warrant together to pick those guys up." 

"He'd better have a good explanation for ditching me ," Scully sighed heavily as relief surged through her. "I'm coming over. Sir, why didn't he pick up his cell phone?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I was trying to get him on the phone earlier, but he didn't respond. Is he with you right now?" 

"He must have fallen asleep on my couch. I left him in the office." 

"Oh. Okay. I'll come down straight away." Scully hung up and tried to ignore the nagging feeling that was starting to build up. She grabbed her jacket, keys, and purse and took off again, locking Mulder's apartment door carefully. The inexplicable fear she felt was getting worse, so much so, that she had to fight against her own better judgement not to call Skinner again, to get him to check on her partner at once. 

Skinner had already sensed the urgency in Scully's voice, telling Davis he was going to go back to his office to keep Mulder Company. Davis nodded; he had pulled some strings to get a warrant immediately, based on the grounds of reasonable cause and suspicion, also from the positive id of the car on the car lot video footage, and promised to inform them at once. 

Skinner strode steadily through the corridors of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, and was stopped by a few of his agents who wanted to ask him questions, before moving forward again until he reached his own office. Kim looked up startled. 

"Is everything okay here?" he asked her. "Nothing out of the ordinary happening?" 

"No, sir. I haven't heard a thing. Its been very quiet." 

Skinner moved forward, opening the door to his private office, frozen in shock as he stared at the body of his agent lying prone across the couch. Mulder was crouched over on his side, clutching at his abdomen as his body lurched through repeated dry heaves. The man's eyes were closed and he seemed totally out of it, as if he didn't even know he was doing this. 

"Get a doctor in here now," Skinner ordered without even looking at Kim. With a few steps, he was by his agent's side and grasped the man's shoulders, shaking him in order to get him to wake up, but Mulder's pale, distraught features belayed the fact that he was totally unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli.  
Suddenly the heaving stopped and Mulder's body began to relax a bit. His eyes opened and closed vacantly, as he lay quietly still on the couch. Skinner was not a medical doctor and had no idea what to do. He felt frustrated with his own powerlessness and relieved; made way for the FBI's doctor on call, who'd reacted quickly to Kim's call for help. 

"What happened?", the doctor asked as they rolled Mulder onto his back. He loosened his clothing, before lifting back each of the agent's eyelids to check his pupils, and moved his head a bit so that his airways were more open. 

"I don't know. I found him unconscious and convulsing. He was sick last week; bitten by poisonous spiders. He's still on medical leave." 

"It's Agent Mulder, right?" 

"Yeah," Skinner replied, realizing this wasn't the first time their doctor had answered a call to the AD's office to check upon Mulder. 

The doctor worked quickly and thoroughly in his attempts to wake Mulder. He felt the man's pulse, checked his heart rate and examined his torso. As he touched Mulder's throat, the agent stirred and blinked his eyelids. 

"He's coming to. Agent Mulder, can you hear me? It's Doctor Peterson. Any idea where you are?" 

Skinner saw how his agent struggled with consciousness. He was not aware of where he was or what he was; neither was he aware that he'd been totally out of it, convulsing and heaving in his sleep. The agent peered blearily up at them. 

"Skinner's office," his voice was very feint and thick with sick fatigue. "What are you doing here? I was just taking a nap." 

"You were unconscious." 

"Not at all. Let me get up." Before they could stop him, Mulder was already moving upwards, pushing them away from him. He sunk instantly back onto the cushions underneath his head, as a wave of dizziness and nausea struck him like a ton of bricks. He sighed deeply. "I guess you were right," he spoke darkly. 

"You seem to be very sick. Have you been suffering from the after effects of those spider bites?" Peterson asked. 

"I don't know. I felt fine for a few days and then the nausea returned." 

"What type of spiders bit him?" Peterson asked Skinner. 

"A hobo spider," a voice came from the door. "And another type they're still examining." Mulder turned his head to face Scully and smiled weakly. He was in for hell. "There she is," he groaned. Skinner gave her a wry smile. 

"How many speeding tickets did you get to get here so fast, agent?" 

"Only four." Scully's anger and frustration switched to concern as she approached the couch where her partner was once again, attempting to sit up. "And it seems that I'm going to get some more dragging my partner back to hospital where he clearly should be right now." 

Mulder's colour slowly returned as he sat up and looked at her tiredly. 

"Forget it, I'm not going back." 

"Yes, you are." 

"Scully, I'm fine." 

"Like hell you are." 

"Stop bugging me, okay? I'm fine!" She sighed. 

"Do you want to end up in restraints again, Mulder? I can fix that, you know. I'm tired of you ignoring what your body is telling you. You should know when you're at the end of your rope. And if you don't know that, you're in big trouble. I don't want to run after you and watch you commit suicide. That's what you're on the verge of doing, you know." He opened his mouth to retort when she raised her hands. "I'm not finished. You have two choices right now; either you're going to go home, get some rest and do absolutely nothing, or I'lll have Skinner send you to hospital and treat you as a hostile patient. The choice is up to you. What do you want to do?" 

He stood up carefully. Peterson and Skinner backed away, as did Kim who stood in the doorway watching the unfolding scene, between the two partners. 

"I refuse to be treated like a little kid," Mulder snapped, eyes full of fiery defiance "I'm tired of you telling me what to do. You don't know what I've been trying to do, do you? I'm trying to save my own ass here, Scully. If you can't take that, then tough. I don't need you to be around. I'm tired of doing nothing. This is my life we're talking about, you know." 

"Yeah," she replied calmly, "but you're destroying it yourself." He just stared at her. "Mulder, last weekend you told me you were relying and leaning on me to help you. You asked for assistance. But you never told me you were terrified. You pretended that it's normal that someone's put a bounty on your head, and is trying to get rid of you, but I know you better. Believe me; I know that you want to go after him. But you can't do this alone. You need me, and Skinner. You need us for support if only to lean on when your legs give way. I know you're tired. I'm tired too. So, if you want to go after Etsuko with your bare hands, then do it. Just do it quickly, swiftly and get it over with. But don't do this alone. I don't want you to get hurt again. I need you, and you need me." He opened his mouth to reply, realizing she was actually backing him up. 

"Okay then," he said as he took her arm for support, looking deeply into her eyes. 

"Let's go get some bad guys." 

"That will be easy to do," Terry Davis spoke, entering the room. "We've got it." 

Part six 

They seemed like ordinary young men to him. They sat in two separate interrogation rooms at the local police station and seemed unaware of why they were there. They were nervous. 

The first one couldn't be older than twenty-two. He had a boyish face with light brown eyes, heavy dark eyebrows and a crew cut; he was chain-smoking cigarettes. His fingers trembled as he lit one and brought it to his mouth, not inhaling. He was slender and strong-built and had rough hands. 

The second one was more cocky, blond and very attractive. He was taller than the first one and had unforgettable strange green eyes. He wasn't as broadly built but showed more physical strength than his friend. 

They had been friends since First Grade. They grew up together and were practically neighbours. The BMW belonged to Jonathan Oates, the blond one. He seemed to be the leader. When they were picked up, they had been standing outside the house of Jonathan's parents, leaning relaxed on the BMW as they discussed tonight's options. They hadn't expected to be arrested and were totally surprised and shocked when they were hauled away. The fact that they were surprised was interesting, and all they had to go on., Mulder thought wearily, as he watched them from outside, through the two way glass. They had nothing else. 

Every instinct inside him shouted it was them. He only had to close his eyes to see Jonathan's green eyes staring at him. He could remember the man hovering over him, pushing him to the ground after he'd driven the knife into him; and the other guy with the light brown eyes, had been the one shoving the gun in his face. 

Scully was the one doing the interrogation. They had decided on a strategy that would hopefully speed things up. She walked self-assured into David's interrogation room and sat down. Skinner followed her and remained standing up. She threw a file on the table before her, startling the already nervous David. 

"David Jacobs," she read out loud as she opened the file. "121 Groves Road. Is that correct?" 

"Yes." 

"You are the best friend of Jonathan Oates?" 

"That's right." 

"Were you with Jonathan on the night of February 24?" The man swallowed. 

"Yeah." 

"Where were you that night?" 

"We were out for a drink." 

"Where did you go?" 

"A lot of places. The Pub. The Mirror Palace. The West Corner." 

"Is there anyone who can corroborate your story?" 

"Yes. Jonathan." She leaned forward. 

"Anyone else?" 

"I don't know. Bar tenders perhaps." 

"How did you get to those places?" 

"We drove." 

"With whose car?" 

"Jonathan's. Mine is total loss. I wrecked it about a month ago." 

"So you were in need of a new car?" He laughed nervously. 

"No, they took away my license. I drank too much." "I see. So Jonathan drove?" 

"Yes." 

"What car?" 

"His Beamer." 

"Did you use it all the time?" 

"Yeah, sure we did." 

"And Jonathan was a responsible driver?" 

"Always. He never drinks more than two beers." 

"Do you know the license plate of that car?" 

"No." 

"But you would recognize it if you saw it on photo?" 

"I guess so." Scully slapped a photo down on the table. "Is this the car, David?" 

"I guess so." 

"Are you sure? Is that a definite identification?" 

"I'm pretty sure." 

"Tell me, David. How could you be driving that car to all those other places, when it was sitting in the East Corner Parking Facility all night?" 

"What?" David nervously looked up, and Scully knew they had him. 

"That is the car, isn't it? The vehicle that Jonathan drives. We have witnesses saying that you drove that car inside the parking lot on the night of February 24, around 10 p.m. You left the vehicle there all night. How could that be, David, when you were out partying with it all night long? Did you have another ride, David? The car of an FBI-agent maybe?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Sure you do," Scully continued smoothly. "I mean, you were there when he got stabbed, weren't you? You were waiting in the corners for Agent Mulder to arrive. You followed your friend over when he'd approached Agent Mulder and stabbed him in the back. You were eager to make an easy hit; to get Agent Mulder's car and take off with it. You wanted to sell it, keep it for yourself or joyride with it. And when you realized that he was an FBI-agent, you decided you had to kill him. You knew that he would recognize you. Well guess what, David? He survived the attack and recognized you. So how about cutting the crap and telling me the truth?" 

David's fingers trembled even more as he reached for his glass of water. Scully was faster and pulled it away before his eyes. In one smooth move she reached forward and drew eye to eye with him, forcing him to look at her. 

"Agent Mulder is my partner, David," she continued icily. "I like him. In fact, I think I care for him. I don't want to see him hurt ever again. But that's difficult, isn't it when cowardly punks like you stab him in the back. I swear to you that you will pay for this." 

She let go of him, allowing him to lean backwards. He had frightened tears in his eyes as she moved the glass of water back towards him. Mulder loved watching her like this; she was on a roll. 

"I know it wasn't your idea, David," she continued, not allowing the young adult to speak. "It wasn't Jonathan's either? It was another man who put you up to this. How did he find you? Did he have something on you? Did he pay you? I'd like to know that, David." 

She sat down as if she had just been discussing the weather with him and crossed her arms. David Jacobs was soon putty in her hands. He had nothing to say. He just sat there and looked at his fists. 

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered. 

"For what? Getting caught, or trying to kill my partner?" 

"We didn't know he was FBI, okay?" David shouted. "This guy told us we just had to scare him off, and hurt him a little. He wanted him in the hospital and even told us where to stab him. He said that it was a little payback for something he he'd done in the past. We didn't ask any questions. He paid us." 

"Did he also pay you to destroy Agent Mulder's apartment?" 

"Yes, it was part of the deal." 

"Where did you meet him?" 

"In a bar: The Corner." 

"That's a drug bar, David." 

"I know." 

"You were looking to score?" 

"Yeah, as always." 

"How much did he pay you to frighten my partner?" 

"A couple of thousand." 

"Do you still have it?" 

"No, it's almost gone." 

"What did you do with his car?" 

"We left it on a parking lot out on the I-90. We drove there as ordered and left the keys inside the car. We picked up the Beamer early morning, waiting until the cops and everyone had left." 

"Do you have the name of this person, David?" 

"No." 

"Can you describe him?" 

"I don't want to. He said he'd kill us if we betrayed him and I believed him." 

"Was he Japanese, David?" This time, the young man looked up. "No," he said. "He wasn't. He was black." 

Part seven 

"Damn it!" Scully sighed as she rubbed her eyelids. She was so tired, she could just drop on the spot. "I thought we had him." 

"It was too much to ask that Etsuko would give the order for the dirty work himself," Mulder replied soothingly. "He's smarter than that. But at least now we have something to go on." 

"Like what?" 

"Somebody will have seen something." 

"The Corner is a drug hot spot, Mulder," Skinner mentioned as he came in, "no one there would testify. No one will have seen anything." 

"Then we're back at square one," Mulder sighed, turning his back on the room where David Jacobs was waiting. He didn't bother going to talk with Jonathan Oates himself, knowing he would come up with the exactly same story. Another agent could do the questioning to compare stories. David Jacobs had given them enough to go on though, and it lead to absolutely nothing. 

"I'll send some folks over there anyhow," Davis said strongly. " Some people who have their own subtle way of ferreting out info or gently persuading reluctant folk to talk. Any one of the bartenders might have seen something; our perp might be a regular." 

"He would have to have been, if he were to pick out those two," Skinner agreed. "He would have had to keep a good eye on what was happening, feeding on those men's weaknesses to get things done. He must have known about their addictions. It's a long shot but we can try." 

"Okay," Scully agreed. "Sounds good to me. In meantime, do we have enough on David's confession to book them?" 

"You bet. The fact they were stupid enough to leave the knife inside the car's trunk, might help too. We've got enough to go on. At least it's something, Mulder." 

"I'm going home," Mulder said, reaching for his coat instead of replying to Skinner's remark. "I'm tired." 

"You're not giving up, are you?" Scully frowned. "We're going to get him, Mulder." 

"No, I'm not. But I'm tired and need to get some rest." He smiled, grasping her shoulder. "Thank you for your performance in there. You were stunning." He leaned down and kissed her, to Skinner and Davis's astonishments; and Scully's. 

"You're welcome," she replied hoarsely. 

"Care to take me home?" 

"Of course. Or would you prefer going to my place?" 

"No, I just want to get some rest in my own bed. I think I could do with a good sleep." 

As they said goodbye to the A.D.'s, Scully noticed a certain relaxation in her partner's manner. He was still worried, but felt confident now that there might be ways to find a lead that led straight back to Etsuko. That, in the end, was something. 

They drove home in silence. Mulder kept his eyes closed most of the time. She knew he was recharging his batteries. 

"I'll make you dinner," she said as she parked the car. 

"That's okay." 

"No, Mulder. I haven't forgotten Jansu's remark; you really do need to get some healthy food inside of you. You need to heal." He smiled. 

"I am healed." 

"That's why you passed out this afternoon." 

"Scully, I didn't pass out." He caught her glance. "I swear I didn't. I fell asleep. I don't know what happened to me, but I don't remember any of it. I was sleeping and that's all." 

"You scared the hell out of Skinner." 

"I guess so." He sighed. "I wish I knew why I am still feeling like hell. It seems that my body is not doing what I want it to do. I'm tired all the time and feel sick. I get bad headaches." 

"Me too," she confessed. "I guess we're both just very, very tired." 

"We just got back from our weekend." 

"That might not have been enough. We should rest more." He smiled. "Together or separately?" 

"Beats me. Come on, let's get you inside." 

Mulder unlocked his apartment door and showed her in. He smiled when she ordered him to sit back and allow her to make dinner. Instead, he dug out a bottle of red wine and uncorked it; while she made baked potatoes, roast chicken and carrots. It smelled delicious. For a few moments he almost forgot why she was there cooking for him. They sat down to eat. 

"Not too much wine for me," she said, downing two Tylenols. "I've already got headache as it is." 

"A little bit won't harm anyone." He poured two glasses and only realized how hungry he was when he started to eat. 

"This is delicious," he confessed with his mouth full. "Scully, you never told me you were such a good cook." 

"I'm not. I just manage." 

"You can manage my dinner more often." She smiled, relaxing. "I'm staying the night, Mulder. If that's okay with you." He laughed. "Is that the wine speaking or you?" 

"I'm sleeping on the couch." 

"Oh." He grinned broadly. "Okay then. But you can sleep in the bed. I'll sleep on the couch." 

"No, you need the rest." 

"So do you. Scully, I'm used to it. I can manage." He shifted so he could touch her face. "I'm glad you are staying." She clasped his hand tightly. 

"I'm glad you are confiding in me again." 

"I'm sorry about my behaviour lately." 

"Don't be. You have every right to be afraid." 

"I love you, Scully. You know me better than anyone. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you." 

She held her breath as tears sprung to her eyes. If only he could say the words a bit more often. She would give anything for his complete and unconditional trust and love. 

"I love you too," she whispered and let go of his hand. He just smiled. 

Part eight 

Mulder felt as if the world was choking him. He felt as though everything was covered in a thick, dark blanket. He couldn't see anything! He opened his eyes and stared into complete darkness. 

Blindly, he pushed himself up and struggled as he slipped off the couch. Where was Scully? He needed help! He needed someone - 

Suddenly the light returned. He could see shadows again, and then forms that became recognizable again. He sighed heavily, realizing he was on his hands and knees on the ground. 

He wanted to get Scully and tell her he was going stir crazy, but couldn't. He needed to be with her. To tell her he was in deep shit. But he didn't. She would freak out. It felt though he was going crazy. Just nuts. 

He crawled back onto the couch and moved his arm over his eyes, closing them again. The dream he had been in had scared the hell out of him. He had been dangling on the edge of a ravine with nothing but a Cliff edge and a river beneath him. Then Etsuko appeared and pushed him over the edge. He felt everything as head smashed against the rocks below; his brains splattered all over the place.  
When he awoke, he could see absolutely nothing. 

A wave of horrible nausea overwhelmed him as he crawled off the couch, just making it to the bathroom before loosing what was left undigested of Scully's fabulous dinner. He sighed heavily and leaned against the tiled wall. His mouth had a horrible foul taste in it. He reached up began to brushed his teeth over and over again. He stared at himself. 

He was paler than he'd been during the day. Instead of getting better, it was getting worse; whatever this sickness was. 

Part nine 

Finally Mulder didn't feel like waiting until dawn. Around five thirty he got up and made a cup of tea, sipping it slowly, It began to have a soothing effect on his sore stomach. He downed two pills to stop the nausea and read the early morning newspaper, delivered before five. He'd taken a walk down to fetch it from his mail pigeonhole, gun armed and ready. Nothing eventful happened. 

Upstairs again, he closed the door and locked it carefully, reading until Scully finally woke up around seven thirty. She looked tired. 

"I slept horribly," she said. "I kept on dreaming that you were very sick. And then you came to me with your eyes cut out. Jesus, it was horrible." He stared at her. 

"Oh, I'm fine," he said. "It was just a dream, Scully." 

"Is there any toast?" After breakfast Scully got dressed and was surprised to find Mulder wasn't getting ready for work. 

"You were right when you said I had to rest more," he confessed. "And truthfully I feel that I overdid things yesterday. So I'm going to stay at home with the doors locked and my gun ready." 

"I'll stay with you then." 

"No, I don't want you to. I want you to be my eyes and ears today. Find something on that bastard and get him locked away for good." 

"Are you sure? I'll send backup; Tom's still in town. He might be able to help." 

"I'm a big boy. I'll manage." Reluctantly Scully gave in. 

"Mulder, swear you'll call me the minute something feels out of place. Or if you're. Okay? Promise?" 

"I promise." 

She left after a kiss and hug goodbye and waited in the hallway until he locked the door behind him. She walked downstairs and stepped into her car, already dialling Skinner's number. No matter what her partner said, she would get someone to keep an eye on him. He needed it. 

A few moments after she left, Mulder cleaned the breakfast table and lingered in the kitchen, aware of the pleasant feelings within him. If only he could make her breakfast every day; It would be a fabulous thing to do. 

A knock on the door startled and surprised him. It could only be Scully returning, he figured, grasping his own set of keys resting on the table. 

"Forgot something?" he asked, unlocking the door. The second he looked through the peeping hole he realized too late it wasn't his partner. The door slammed open, knocking him backwards against the wall, his head slamming against the unforgiving hard surface and he slumped to the ground, trying to grasp reality. 

His head swam and he saw nothing but red. A wave of dizziness swept over him as he stared into the ground. The wood seemed to fade into a deep darkness; it hadn't been a dream last night! He was slowly losing his vision until he could see nothing. 

He crawled backwards, aware of the enemy standing within the apartment. The door closed. Footsteps came ominously towards him. He couldn't see who it was, although he had a fair idea who it might be. 

Etsuko smiled as he watched the agent struggle with his ability to stay alert and focused. The dosage given to him was strong enough to kill an ox within less than a few days, let alone a human being. Breathing in the substance directly would destroy him. It wouldn't be long now before the man would lose all senses, abilities and then his life. 

Mulder rolled onto his belly, crawling up on hands and knees as he shook his head to rid himself of the blurry vision. 

"What did you do to me?" Mulder's voice became slurred and almost unreal as his body became useless. He had no control over his limbs left, and nothing else he could physically do. He was helpless on the ground against the one man who knew what was happening to him. 

"You're not so cocky now, are you," Etsuko spoke with soft, almost gentle voice while kneeling down next to him. His hand didn't touch the FBI agent's skin; he did not want to be polluted by the touch. In all the discussions they'd had, he had not once offered the man his hand. Not one gentle glance. Not one friendly word. Just the punishment for insulting the man Etsuko lived to serve. In Etsuko's eyes, the FBI-agent did not deserve anything friendly. 

"It will be over soon," Etsuko promised as he stretched his legs and stepped over the agent's body. Mulder no longer had the strength to even remain on hands and knees and fell forward, face down, onto the carpet. "I won't let you suffer much longer. Just let it happen and you won't be in any pain." 

"Go to hell," Mulder groaned into the carpet as he lay there. 

"There will be no hell for me," Etsuko whispered as he left the apartment, closing the door. 

Mulder could smell something. There was something here that felt out of the ordinary. But what was it? If only he could pull his mind into focus. He needed to find out and identify it, whatever it was, it was killing him; but his body and soul were in unison as they both refused to remain conscious and forced him to descend into darkness. 

He had to fight. 

Part ten 

Scully's headache felt worse as she drove up the FBI's secluded parking lot. She realized it had begun before she'd even left Mulder's apartment that morning, as she was eating breakfast in the kitchen and chatting with him. He had looked horrible at the time, but now she felt just as bad. 

She was nauseated too, as if the contents of her breakfast were struggling to get out. She wanted to lean forward and puke her guts up. Adjusting her mirror, she noticed she looked decidedly green around the edges. 

Whatever bug Mulder seemed to have caught, had caught her too. She sat in the lot inside her car and waited for the dizziness to pass. Her vision blurred. She felt tired and shook her head. She would give anything to go back to Mulder's and be sick along side him, getting some rest. He would comfort her at least. She sighed and left the car, only to find her legs giving way on her. 

"Agent Scully!" She turned to find Terry Davis rushing over to her. He grabbed her just before she fell. She leaned heavily into him. 

"I don't know what's happening to me," she groaned. "I'm feeling weak. I can't -"  
Her voice died alongside her consciousness. A.D. Davis lifted her off her feet as her eyes closed and she passed out in his arms. 

"Get some help!" he shouted as another car stopped, and one of his own men got out. 

Part eleven 

Mulder woke up on the exact same spot inside his apartment; brightness from outside betraying it was daytime. Scully hadn't returned yet. He became aware of the deep silence within the apartment. A deadly silence, graveyard quiet. Horrible nausea overwhelmed him as he moved his head. He turned on his side, clutching at his abdomen as he heaved. Nothing came out. The dry heaves hurt his entire body. He had to call someone, get help and find out what was happening to him. 

It took minutes for him to roll onto his back and stare at the spotted ceiling. Then he crawled up onto his ass, sitting up straight with both hands holding onto the carpet. He managed to get up long enough to go and collapse onto the couch. Good thing Scully wasn't here to see that, he thought as he closed his eyes, turned onto his side again and waited for the next wave of nausea to pass. He had to call someone, but sleep claimed him instead. 

Part twelve 

The phone was on the kitchen table; he remembered that now. He opened his eyes but darkness greeted him. The blindness had returned. It was getting worse and worse. 

"Damn." His voice came from afar. He'd completely lost track of time. Why hadn't he allowed Scully to stay? He should have known. And Etsuko had come to gloat. Why had he come? Wasn't he part of his dreams and hallucinations? Had he really been here? 

"Scully." He slipped off the coach and fell face down onto the rug. That weird smell again. Why hadn't he noticed it before? It was everywhere inside the apartment like an invisible cloak hanging over them. 

Part thirteen 

"Get an IV started." 

"No." Scully slapped at the paramedic working on her, as she lay on a gurney ready to be transported to hospital. "Mulder -" A familiar face hovered over her. It was Davis's. "Scully, work with them. You're very sick. What happened to you?" 

She didn't know. She just felt sick, very sick. Every time she walked into Mulder's apartment, it overwhelmed her. That had to be it! Mulder's apartment. The redecoration; the new colours and fabrics; there was something about them or coating them, that made them sick. Mulder was there now, inside his apartment, breathing it in. He'd been breathing it in for hours. 

"Mulder," she whispered as an oxygen mask was slipped over her nose and mouth. If she was this sick at her own small exposure to it, what about him? How long before it would kill him? 

"Apartment," she whispered, shoving the mask off her face. "Something in apartment. It makes us sick." 

"Stay with her," Davis said to one of his men. "I have to warn Skinner." 

"He's over there, sir. I already called him." Davis turned to find his colleague rushing over to them. 

"What happened?" 

"She collapsed. Says there's something making her sick, and Mulder too, inside his apartment." 

"I called Tom Fielding earlier to go to Mulder's but he couldn't. He's alone at home. I was planning on going over there in a few hours." 

"I don't think there's any time to lose," Davis frowned. "I'll go with Scully to the hospital; she's frantic. Get over there. I'll send for back up." 

Skinner ran to his car as Scully was moved into an ambulance, cursing himself for allowing Mulder to be alone. 

Part fourteen 

The shadows had made way for deep darkness. Mulder saw nothing anymore. His body was still lying on the floor, but his mind was inside another world. He felt safe here. Nothing could bring him back anymore; he was lost to this world. 

Part fifteen 

"Mulder?" 

Skinner dreaded the absolute silence coming from inside the agent's apartment. He knocked on the door several times, trying to get a response. Nothing stirred inside. He knocked again; calling out the agent's name, try to get a response, all to no avail. If he lay unconscious inside the apartment, there was no way the Mulder could unlock the door himself. 

Skinner was ready to use the key he had taken from Scully's purse, but as he tried the handle first, to his alarm, Skinner noticed that the door was already open. He muttered a silent curse as he entered the hall and then the living room. His agent lay face down on the rug between the coffee table and the couch. He'd evidently tried to do something but had passed out, Skinner figured as he rushed forward, pushed aside the table and rolled the agent into the recovery position, face up in his arms. 

"Mulder, oh god." The agent's face was as pale as anything the A.D. had ever seen. Drops of sweat clung to his skin. His eyes were closed; the eyelids weren't even fluttering as he tried to get the man to react. 

With Mulder in his arms, Skinner used one hand to fish his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. 

"Assistant-Director Skinner," he barked as soon as a male voice came to his rescue. "I have an agent down in a serious condition. I need help stat." The Ad gave the operator the names and necessary location details. 

"Help is already on the way, sir. Your colleague called us too. They should be there at any minute." Thank god for Davis, Skinner sighed with relief as he hung up the phone and sat down. He tapped Mulder's cheek constantly, hoping and begging for small mercies. The agent remained still and unresponsive. A very faint pulse could be found, at least he wasn't dead; but what if he were dying right now? He hoped the paramedics would hurry up. 

The A.D. dreaded moving the agent but realized he couldn't let him lie there any longer either. If Scully was right about something in the apartment causing this sickness, he needed to move him outside. He could smell something too as he brought his face closer to the rug, sniffing at it; a faint odour of something sickly and unpleasant, maybe deadly. 

Another push moved the coffee table aside and Skinner lifted the agent's still form onto the rug, taking both edges in his hands. With a few hauls, he managed to pull the rug, agent and all, outside into the corridor. It was then that he smelt that same horrible odour on the rug too. He pulled Mulder off of it and shoved the rug back inside the apartment, closing the door. 

He sat on the floor in the hallway and took Mulder's head in his lap, talking to him as he tried to get the man to come to. All he could do was hope that he'd been in time getting Mulder out of there, and for the paramedics to arrive in time. 

When the paramedics arrived, they found the agent on the verge of a coma and an Assistant-Director on the fighting back of unwilling tears. It took all he had for Skinner not to accept the cruel reality of his agent's possible death. He couldn't accept it; he never would. 

Part sixteen 

Assistant-Director Skinner clenched his teeth as he watched the ER-room where a team of professionals was working on stabilizing Mulder's condition. Before they even got to hospital, he'd suffered two respiratory arrests. It had become necessary to intubate him on the way over, the ambulance having to stop in the middle of traffic to allow the attending doctor to carry out the delicate procedure to get the tube down the agent's throat without faltering. Cardiac massage was given for the rest of the journey when Mulder's heart arrested. Then they were on the road again, rushing towards West Hospital, where Scully had also been admitted. 

Skinner had explained what Scully had told him and described the symptoms as he knew them; they'd all thought that Mulder's nausea, dizziness and tiredness had an after effect of the spider bites. That obviously was not the case. But what was it then? 

He thought of the CDC trouping through Mulder's apartment even as they were preparing the agent for transport to hospital. He had said the same thing to them, hoping that they would be able to detect whatever had been responsible for the Agents collapse. 

Even during the short stay at the apartment, Skinner had felt the onset of a strong headache approaching. Scully had stayed over it seemed, a much longer exposure but not as much as Mulder. No wonder both his agents were totally out of it. 

As they entered the ER, Skinner spotted several FBI-agents; Tom Fielding was there, leaving his assignment as soon as he heard, as was Davis. A few others were called in to guard Scully and now Mulder. Davis stared at Mulder's still form, cursing himself that they hadn't seen this coming. But how could they? The product that caused Mulder's problems now would have had to be brought into the apartment later on. One could only smell it when leaning against the wall, or lying down on the carpet. It was an invisible attacker, and a deadly one. 

"Is he -?" he asked. 

"He's in a bad way, coded a few times on the way over here... I don't know. Where's Scully?" 

"She's awake and alert. She's suffering from serious headaches and nausea but they have her on medication. She should be fine in a couple of hours. What the hell is happening here Walter?" 

"As far as I can tell Mulder's apartment walls, rugs and probably furniture as well have been contaminated with something. I don't know what it is but I could smell it, now that the paint fumes have dried out, there's this unpleasant odour." 

"Damn it," Davis frowned. "I swear I'm going to kill that guy." 

"You can't prove a single thing. No one can. We have to concentrate on Mulder now and hope for the best. It's all we can do." Skinner turned towards the window and stared at medical staff attending to Mulder's lifeless body. If only he could do something. Anything. 

Part seventeen 

Scully opened her eyes as soon as Skinner walked into her private room. She was alert; weak and pale but her eyes were vivid with fear for her partner. 

"Where is he?" 

"In the ICU. They're still trying to figure out what was on the rugs. It could be any kind of toxic substance they used to treat the furniture with; but they'll find it. He's stabilized now. If you feel up to it, you can see him." 

Scully nodded, staring at the IV that still dripped medication into her arm. She was feeling better now that the nausea had nearly gone. It was like having the worst stomach flu ever, and then some. She knew she'd been very lucky. 

"Is he going to die?" 

"Not if they can help it. The CDC is figuring out what to do." She shoved the bed sheets aside. Skinner handed her a robe borrowed from the hospital staff. 

"I should have known," she sighed. 

"You couldn't have known." 

"I was having headaches too." 

"Mulder would have had them also, but he didn't say anything to you." 

"He was acting strangely. Sometimes he'd look at me as if he couldn't even see me. He was agitated and nervous. He'd been like that before." 

"But at other times he was fine and responsive." 

Skinner pulled up a wheelchair for her, she stepped in reluctantly after a brief protest, and he pushed her - IV and all - to the ICU. She held her breath as she saw her partner's still form in his bed. He was still attached to respirator tube in his throat and didn't respond to anything she, or anyone else did. 

"How is he doing?" she asked, grasping his fingers and stroking them with her thumb. 

"As well as can be expected. He's not out of the woods yet," a nurse explained. 

"He has all the symptoms of a severe poisoning and is seriously dehydrated. We're pumping fluids into him as we speak. The doctor's are waiting for the CDC-results to start proper treatment. He also received a bang to the head. We don't know yet if that caused any damage until he wakes up." 

Skinner watched as Scully leaned forward and stroked her partner's face. 

"Hey," she whispered soothingly, "It's me. Open your eyes." 

Her fingers touched his damp skin. Only this morning they'd been together and he'd made her breakfast. She had wanted it to go on forever; but here he was again, fighting the demons that tried to drag him into oblivion and death. 

"Don't let him win, Mulder," she whispered to him gently. "If you go now, you have lost. I know how much you hate to lose. Don't do it. Stay with me. I need you." 

Skinner felt tears well up in his eyes for the second time that day and cursed the man who did this. The powerlessness Mulder had shown yesterday, threatened to make the AD feel that way too. He would not allow it. As long as there was hope, he would fight back and retain that hope, no matter how hard it was. 

"I'll leave you two alone," Skinner uttered softly, touched Scully's arm briefly. She looked up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks and nodded. The Assistant-Director walked outside and rubbed his eyes. If only he could do something. A few moments later, An excited Davis walked over to him. 

"We've found what was used all over the apartment to cause of Mulder's and Scully's sickness," he said. 

"Hopefully it will be in time so that he might makes it yet." 

"What have you got?" 

"Come with me and I'll show you." 

Dr. Lewis of the CDC was a broad-built forty-something man who liked to cut to the chase. He had driven to the hospital himself after the quick but thorough testing of the walls, rugs and furniture within Mulder's apartment revealed what had been hidden there. 

"Are you familiar with a substance called formaldehyde?" he asked Skinner who nodded. 

"No, not really."  
"It's a substance that is present in many of our every day tools such as furniture, textiles, paper coating, pressed wood, etc. It's something that is quite harmless really, unless you are very allergic to it or exposed to it in to large quantities. As you know, chemicals surround us every day, in almost everything we use. Formaldehyde is one of those. In its diluted form, used as part of our tools, it's harmless. But when we tested Agent Mulder's belongings, we found this chemical alright, only about four hundred times stronger than it usually is." 

"So he was poisoned?" 

"Yes and no. There is something that we call Sick Building Syndrome, which is basically a disease causing a person to react allergically to chemicals that we find in buildings. For example, a newly decorated apartment could do the trick. New carpeting could be rendered harmful, even deadly by out gassing emissions that causes the subject to react badly. This is what happened to your agent. The classic symptoms are there: the fatigue, nausea - perhaps even vision loss. SDS is a disease that can make people very sick. In this case; it nearly killed him due to the strong use of the chemical Formaldehyde, plus the fact that your Mr Mulder was already in a weakened state from the stabbing, and spider venom poisoning. Here, hehe was poisoned because it was deliberately applied to his apartment as a highly elevated rate in order to cause harm. 

"Can it be treated?" 

"Yes, it can, and it's not so difficult either. I have already spoken to Agent Mulder's doctors. He will receive a very strong dosage of antibiotics combined with fluids to stop the dehydration. He will have to stay on oxygen for a while and strong medication to stop the larynx from swelling - also a classic symptom of SDS. Your agent was already weakened, as I mentioned before. Whoever did this obviously thought that this would do the trick and finish him off." 

"Will he suffer from any side effects?" 

"Probably, but they will go away after a while if treatment is successful. Hopefully he will heal completely and without complications." 

"Thank you, doctor." Dr. Peterson nodded and left to check the results with his attending colleagues. Skinner turned to Davis. "That bastard set it all up; he had those men destroy Mulder's apartment so that it would have to be re-decorated. He knew he was weak after everything he'd been through with stabbing the bites incident. He probably treated the furniture with the chemical after the interior decorator finished his job. I want to take him down, Terry. I don't care what I have to do to achieve that." 

"You're not alone," Davis grunted. "But he still needs to be caught in the act. He's used to using middlemen. He'll never get his hands dirty." 

"He'll be frustrated that this failed. He'll be losing his patience, hopefully that's when he'll eventually make a mistake." Skinner spoke softly. 

"So let's set him up then." 

Part eighteen 

Mulder knew he should not be waking up so soon, but something from within him warned it was time to wake up and face reality again. His mind ached for rest though; it wanted him to stay down for the count and take it easy. Go into darkness and float there for a while; Lingering in silence that felt so much more welcoming than facing the cold, harsh world. 

Something had changed about his environment; he was no longer at home. He was in another place; one that smelled of hospital odours and sounded like rattling plates of food being transferred through hallways; the place where they pushed needles in your arm and never left you along with their fussing. 

He became aware of something lying in his hand. It felt like fingers; they moved. He blinked his eyelids, terrified that he would not be able to see anything again. But the images came immediately and strongly, his eyesight improving as the moments went by, actually he was even feeling pretty good. 

"Mulder." Something in Scully's voice instantly alerted him he'd been on the edge of death and back; that strange quality that she always conveyed whenever he was fighting against something threatening to kill him. 

He tried to recall what it was that tried to kill him, this time; or perhaps he was already dead. He didn't know. His eyes slowly focused on her face. Her eyes. She was beautiful, and very pale. Dressed in regular clothing she seemed too small to be an FBI-agent, who went out and fought the bad guys. She ought to have been a medical doctor far away from out of the risk zone. 

"Hey," he said. His voice sounded odd. He had to struggle to clear it back into a tone above a whisper, he'd been on a respirator again, he realised. 

"How do you feel?" 

"I'm okay." She laughed. 

"Don't lie."   
"Okay, I'm not okay. In fact, I feel like death warmed up." 

"Good to hear you still have your sense of humor. At least you're feeling something again." 

"How long have I -?" 

"A day." 

"How bad?" 

" Pretty Bad, Mulder." Her smile had faded by now. 

"Am I going to -?" 

"No! You're okay now or at least getting there. You're improving gradually. I'm so glad to see you awake again and alert again. You should make a full recovery." she squeezed his hand again. " When I think of what happened -" 

"What caused it?" 

"You were poisoned. The apartment was rigged with 400 times the safe level of formaldehyde." 

"You were sick too -?" 

"I inhaled some of the dosage, but it wasn't so bad. I slept in your bedroom, which was untainted. You slept on the couch inside the living room where much of the stuff was concentrated." 

"Oh." Mulder hesitated, and then spoke again. "I saw him, Scully. He was there, laughing at me. He came to gloat. We were right all along." 

"Mulder," she leaned forward. "We have a plan to set him up but we need you and your strength for a little while. Are you game?" He grasped her fingers that had laid in his and squeezed them. 

"Let's play." 

Part nineteen 

Asari hated going up against his own people, but had no choice when they were wrong. He had no reason to doubt the words of the FBI-men, especially when Mulder told his friends that he'd seen Etsuko inside his apartment. 

Asari was a man of honour who knew when to give up his beliefs to support the truth. None of his men had ever defied him before, or had gone against his wishes. Etsuko's worst mistake was to do just that. That in itself could not be left unpunished. His right hand man stepped into his office, just then and bowed his head slightly. 

"You called for me?" 

"Yes. I want you to go to the hospital with me," he began in their native tongue. 

"Hospital?" 

"Yes. We are going to visit Agent Mulder." Etsuko's expression changed. 

"Why?" 

"To wish him well. Of course." 

"Why is he in hospital?" 

"He was very sick." 

"But he's better then?" 

"He is improving, yes." 

"That cannot -" Etsuko stopped as his eyes betrayed his emotions for a brief second, before adopting a look of cockiness again. "When do you wish to go?" 

"Right now. I want you to buy a present for Agent Mulder. Something nice; Chocolates perhaps, or something else fitting. You choose. We leave in half an hour. Pick me up in my office." 

"Why do you want to go see him?" Etsuko asked coolly. "He insulted you." 

"And he apologized for it." 

"That is not enough." 

"It is always enough. I am not a vindictive man." 

"Yes, sir." 

Etsuko left the office outraged, burning with anger against the man whose life he had sworn to take. Mulder still was still alive. He wanted him dead more than ever. He would not linger anymore. This time, he would end it with his own hands, fulfilling the revenge he had sworn to take. 

"It is over," he spoke aloud as he stalked into his own office and dug out a bottle of strychnine, he kept in the bottom drawer of his locked desk. Then he grabbed the phone and instructed his secretary to fetch a box of the most exclusive chocolates she could find. 

Part twenty 

"Are you ready to face him?" Scully asked as she straightened Mulder's bed sheets and watched his reaction. He was still slowly regaining his strength but it would a few days until he would recover enough to leave, he was steadily improving. It had been two days since he woke up; it had never taken him this long to recover before; his system had taken a real pounding this time. 

Dr. Peterson had explained that this was normal: the sort of artificial poisoning the agent had suffered from had taken over his body like a deadly virus. It took a while for the human body to fight it off, even with Mulder's generally fast healing ability.. 

"The problem with your partner was so acute because of his already weakened condition," Peterson had concluded. "The spider bites had left his weak against any outside invaders. If the one who did this knew of the aftermath of such poisonous bites, he would have also known that the SDS-infection would render Mulder's helpless against the new attack with the dangerously elevated formaldehyde and would certainly kill him. He's probably pulled this slow kill trick before." 

That remark had made Scully go through Etsuko's past again. She had already contacted Asari to ask him about it and after some digging, had hit pay dirt. It had come to light, that there were more strange events that had occurred in the man's past. 

If there ever were any doubt in Asari's mind that his right hand man was not responsible for Mulder's condition, it faded away as soon as the two Japanese men entered the hospital room. Etsuko's cold, death defying glares rested solely on Mulder. An intense coldness settled over the room as the two men met. No one could deny his intent. 

Asari gently placed a box of Belgian chocolates in Mulder's hands. The agent sat straight up in bed, his exhausted, frail body resting against pillows. His eyes spoke of his fatigue, and struggle to fight his way back from near death. IV's still dripping fluids into him, strengthening him as much as they could. Today was the first day he'd been able to keep food down and he was gradually recovering. His vision still blurred now and then but not as bad as it had been. 

"Thank you, Mr. Asari," Mulder smiled, shaking the Consul's hand. "I appreciate your visit." 

"I hope that you are feeling better, Agent Mulder. You have been the victim of unfortunate bad luck and I hope that you will quickly recover." 

"Bad luck had nothing to do with it, sir." Mulder intoned as he glanced at Scully who coldly watched Etsuko's every move, ready to pull out her gun if the need arose. She detested the idea of Mulder's enemy being in the same room as him, but knew it was for the better cause. "I was the victim of several murder attempts." Asari's eyebrow lifted. 

"Really? By whom?" 

"We don't know that, sir," Scully said. "We are trying to find out. Please, have a seat." 

Etsuko relaxed somewhat as he heard Scully's words and looked for a seat on the other side of Mulder's bedside, as close to the door as he could; but found no empty chair, Tom Fielding occupying the only one left besides Asari, his expression saying that he did not intend giving up the strategic position. He crossed his arms and stared at Etsuko coldly, challenging the man to defy him. Etsuko baulked and moved against the wall instead. He felt uncomfortable standing there, waiting for something to happen. Finally he apologized and left the room. 

Outside Etsuko took deep breaths and tried to relax. It was over. As soon as the agent took one chocolate and ate it, he would die. Strychnine worked quickly and thoroughly and still remained hard to trace. Even so, Etsuko could care less. If they took him down, he would hold his head high and accept his fate in justice and honor. 

He wandered around in the hallway until a loud cry came from within Mulder's room. Etsuko smiled broadly as he turned. Only to find Scully's distraught expression as she rushed outside and cried out, "Asari is dead!" 

Etsuko's world collapsed. For fifteen years he had served his master well. He had done everything for him, to defend the honour that accompanied the great man's status, a man who was so important to him. And now he was dead? 

"No!" he cried out, shoving her aside, he ran into the room. Asari lay over Mulder's legs, face down as his body lay slumped and lifeless. "No ..." Etsuko grasped the man's body and pulled it against his own, holding him against his chest. Then he stared at Mulder, who sat distressed, in the bed and looked him in the eye. 

"You killed him!" Etsuko cried out as he lowered Asari's body on the bed and moved forward with stretched out hands. "You knew!" Etsuko wanted to throttle Mulder himself, imagined choking the life out of him. He had earned that right. As he threw himself at Mulder, Tom and Skinner, who'd been waiting for him to make his move, seized him immediately. Etsuko was forced backwards and felt two pairs of strong hands holding onto him. 

"What did I know?" Mulder asked quietly. "That you poisoned the chocolates?" 

"You were meant to eat them! You tricked me." 

"I wasn't the one poisoning them. What did you use, Etsuko?" The Consul's right hand man groaned, as he tried to force himself away from the men now restraining him. He lost all strength as he slumped onto his knees and cried out. 

"I didn't mean for this to happen!" 

"No," Scully spoke coldly. "You meant for my partner to die a slow cruel death, we know everything that you've been trying to do to him, over the last two weeks. You set up the stabbing, the spider attack and the overdose of formaldehyde throughout his apartment, intended to slowly kill him. How dare you do this to him?" 

"He insulted us. He insulted our culture and our people." 

"Yes he did. And he apologized for it. It should have been over then. But you let it linger on and decided to get back at him on your own terms. You knew he was sanpaku and you took that to your advantage." Scully had never spoken so coldly to anyone before, Mulder felt as her stone cold eyes met Etsuko's. "I hope you rot in hell." Etsuko straightened his back. 

"I shall never face justice. You have nothing to proof. You have nothing." The Japanese aid received the shock of his life as the body of Asari stirred. To his shock his employer opened his eyes slowly, turned and rose. The man's expression was that of torture and pain as he faced his friend. 

"They have me," he nodded, anger and disappointment roiling through him. "And my testimony." 

Part twenty-one 

"I can't believe it is over," Mulder sighed after Skinner left. "It's truly over." 

"Mr. Asari told us that Etsuko would try to kill you personally, now that all his other little plans had failed. It's a good thing that sometimes killers are predictable. Etsuko wouldn't have cared less that he was caught in the act, but it would destroy him to learn he had killed his own master." 

"So that means I'm no longer Sanpaku?" Mulder smiled. "I can rest easily now?" 

"I was meaning to talk to you about that," Scully said as she sat on the side of her partner's bed, fiddling with the sheets. He looked at her in wonder. "Mulder, over the past few days it's become clear that you're struggling with a lot of heartache that seems to be inside you, some inner pain that needs addressing. You have disturbing dreams at night and sleep badly. I feel that you might want to talk to someone about this. I know that you're not really fond of psychiatrists or psychologists, but I think it's wise to do so right now." He opened his mouth to react, but she raised her hand. "Between my shooting and your reaction to it already showed that you are filled with pain and guilt. These past few weeks have been so hard on all of us, around you. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you to bottle all of this up. I just want you to feel safe again." 

He stopped her talking by placing his fingers on her mouth. She kissed the tips of them before grasping his hand. 

"You are right," he soothed her. "And truthfully I had already planned on going to see someone. I want this to be over with too. I don't want to live in fear. It's true that we've been through a lot and that we need help to get over this." She blinked in wonder as he continued. "I want to do this for us," he whispered as he stroked her face. "I want you to be with a man who's not afraid anymore." She smiled. 

"I want to be with that man too." She leaned forward and kissed him gently, stroking his face. She did'nt close her eyes as their lips touched. 

"Goodnight," she whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Goodnight." 

Scully grabbed her jacket and left the room. Mulder turned on his side, muted the television set and closed his eyes. 

Part twenty-two 

Footsteps tapped quietly in the hallway on their way to the room with the number 452 on it. They stopped before the door. A hand pushed it open. The figure walked in and stopped at Mulder's bedside, the agent was lying on his back.. 

A pillow lying on the chair near the window was lifted. The figure approached the bed and pushed the pillow hard over Mulder's face, smothering him. The agent instantly started to struggle, trying to get a grip on the person trying to kill him. His struggles remained useless. 

The door opened again. Two men walked in and grasped Mariko Jansu by the arms, yanking her away from her intended victim. Scully flew in after them, and pulled the pillow from Mulder's face, checking on him, who smiled faintly back as he looked at her, breathlessly. He was okay. 

Skinner and Davis both held onto the Embassy translator, who was supposed to be in Tokyo. Her beautiful face became horribly distraught as she snapped at both men, trying to free her from them. 

"Let me go!" she cried out in fluent English. 

"Did you have fun toying with my partner?" Scully asked, facing the woman. "Did you put Etsuko up to it? Did you plant the idea of revenge into his mind? You used it before on your own friends, didn't you? We found a few strange deaths in your circle of friends, Mariko. Not to mention the fact, that you've been having a relationship with Etsuko for the past year or so. I'm sure that you found it an amusing game. In fact, it was so amusing that we were laughing our heads off when we figured out that you were involved. My boss and his colleague here were eager to stick around and see if we were right in thinking you would finish Etsuko's job. I guess we were." Mariko spit at Scully, not even getting close to her. "She's not so pretty now, is she Mulder?" Scully smiled. "Her true colours are revealed." 

"She never was pretty," the agent replied from his bed. "Ugliness always raises its head." Mariko Jansu knew when she was defeated. "No," she said. "It was Etsuko's idea." 

"Tell that to the judge. You''ll get your chance in court." 

Epilogue 

Mulder's bag rested on top of the bed when Scully walked in. He was inside the small bathroom getting ready to go home. It pained Scully to see he was still moving like an old man: everything he did seemed restrained. It still frightened her to think what could have happened to him. The horrible death Etsuko had prepared for him, had nearly become a reality. 

He smiled broadly as he spotted her. His hair was freshly washed and combed in a boyish way. He was dressed in his favourite jeans and navy blue sweater. It seemed too dark against his pale skin, but her heart flutter nicely anyhow. He took her in his arms, pulling her against him. 

"Ready to go?" she asked, scenting the fabulous aftershave he used. 

"Yep." 

"So you don't mind staying at my place for the time being?" 

"Nope." 

"Good." She grasped his bag but he stopped her. "Hey, I'm not that weak you know." 

"You should be leaving the hospital in a wheel chair, as per hospital policy." "Stuff hospital policy. I'm fine." He wrapped his arm around her, while she eagerly leaned into him, as they walked through the corridor to the elevator. 

"So," he said. "Does that mean we are going to stay in one motel room from now on?" 

"Don't count on it." 

"But -" 

"Mulder, you snore." 

"I do?" 

"Yeah." 

"Since when?" 

"You've always snored." 

"And you talk in your sleep." 

"What? What do I say?" 

"Lots of things. Sexy things." 

"No, I don't!" 

"Admit it then, that I don't snore." 

"Mulder, you snore." 

His laughter filled the hospital corridor, putting smiles on the faces of the medical staff. It put a huge smile on Scully's face too. 

End   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Humbuggie


End file.
